Southern Charm
by Grace Musica
Summary: [UPDATE 1.10.07] While on vacation in New Orleans, Dee and Ryo become caught up in the criminal scene when a serial killer strikes the Big Easy, someone who uses tarot cards and hoodoo magic to destroy his enemies.
1. The Fool

Chapter Zero: The Fool  
Author: Gracie Musica  
Date Written: 9/11/05  
Rating: PG-13 to R at the moment, subject to change  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo, lotsa OC  
Warnings: Homosexuality, Murder, Hoodoo use  
Disclaimer: Not mine  
Spoilers: All the way through Book 7  
Notes: I live in Louisiana, and have visited the now-devastated New Orleans many, many times. To honor this, I wanted to write a story set in New Orleans. Hopefully, this will give everyone who never got the chance to visit New Orleans a small glimpse of what the city was like.

* * *

_The conventional 78-card tarot deck is structured into two distinct parts. The first, called the Major Arcana, consists of 21 cards without suits typically referred to as "trumps", plus a 22nd card, The Fool. The second, called the Minor Arcana, consists of 56 cards divided into four suits of 14 cards each. The traditional Italian suits are Swords, Batons, Coins and Cups. In modern tarot decks, the Batons suit is commonly called Wands, Rods or Staves, while the Coins suit is often called Pentacles or Disks. (Arcana is the plural form of the Latin word arcanum, meaning "hidden truth" or "secret knowledge".)_

_The 14 cards in each suit consist of an Ace, nine cards numbered 2 through 10, and four court cards (not dissimilar from the structure of 52-card bridge/poker playing card decks, except that bridge/poker playing card decks have three court cards rather than four)._

_The four court cards (or face cards) of the tarot deck traditionally consist of the King, the Queen, the Knight and the Page (or Knave). In bridge/poker decks, the court cards typically consist of the King, the Queen and the Jack. The Jack corresponds to the tarot deck's Page._

_In the Western world today, the Tarot is usually seen either as a means of divination, the practice of ascertaining information from supernatural sources, or, in a more modern view, as a psychological tool for accessing the unconscious. However, early references such as the sermon refer only to the use of the cards for game-playing and gambling; and in some European countries such as France, Italy, Switzerland, Austria and Germany, Tarot is still a widely played game.  
_---from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia.

* * *

Desmond Richardson stumbled out of Harrah's casino at three fifty-three in the morning. He reeked of cigarette smoke and alcohol, and he was flat broke. He contemplated selling the clothes on his back, but thought better of it; he'd rather just go home and sleep it off instead of getting picked up for public indecency by the cops. 

He stumbled down Decatur, one hand deep in his pocket, the other outstretched to touch anything he could hold for support. Only one thought was going through Richardson's alcohol-fogged mind: Where could he get more cash for tomorrow?

Desmond Richardson was a gambling addict. He was already deep in debt, too; his family had long stopped giving him money; his wife had left him a good ten years ago, taking their two children with her; and at work, he had been fired just the day before, which had spawned the latest gambling binge.

It was when he turned down into a darkened alley towards his thrice-mortgaged home on the verge of repossession that he ran smack into another person.

"Damn it, watch where you're going!" the drunken man lashed out, waving his arms around. The motion threw him off-balance, and he landed heavily on his rear. He got an idea from that. "Ow, hey man, I think you might have broken something! You should give me some money for my hospital bills, yeah?"

"I don't think so," came the cool reply, and something in the voice made Richardson sober up considerably. He looked up, peering into the darkness at the figure that loomed above him. The person was dressed in a black pinstripe suit, their hair hidden underneath a wide-brimmed fedora. There was a faint light coming from the other end of the alleyway behind the newcomer, and he could barely make out two shining pinpoints of light that were their eyes.

They were deep, dark eyes, almost black, and quite mesmerizing. Looking into them took Richardson a moment or two to find his voice. "Well, I think I deserve some form of compensation," the gambler said, put out.

"Compensation I can do."

The last thing Richardson remembered seeing was the cold glint of light off steel.  
---


	2. The Magician

Chapter One: The Magician  
Date Written: 9/11/05  
Rating: Same as Chapter Zero  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, Murder, Hoodoo use  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way through Book 7  
Notes: And here we go! First chapter.

* * *

_Café du Monde is a famous coffee shop on Decatur Street in the French Quarter in New Orleans, Louisiana. It is best known for its café au lait and its French style beignets. In the New Orleans style, the coffee is blended with chicory._

_The location at the upper end of the French Market was established in 1862. For over a century it was one of two similar coffee and beignets places in the market, the other being Morning Call, established in 1870 and for political reasons forced out of the Old French Market in 1974 and moved to the suburb of Metairie, Louisiana._

_Starting in the late 1980s, Café du Monde has opened up additional locations in shopping malls. While originally appearing as far away as Atlanta, Georgia, in recent years the company has restricted its operation to the greater New Orleans metro area and a single location in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Café du Monde locations can also be found throughout Japan._

_It is open 24 hours, 7 days a week, except for Christmas Day (and days when "the occasional hurricane passes too close to New Orleans," according to the shop's Web site), and is patronized by both locals and visitors._

_Hurricane Katrina did, indeed, pass too close to New Orleans -- the shop has been closed since the city's mandatory evacuation. _---from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

* * *

"Shit, this place is crowded," Dee Latyner swore, looking around the small, wrought-iron table he and his partner, Ryo Maclean, were seated. 

"Well, it is one of the most popular breakfast spots in the entire city, Dee," Ryo chastised, looking at the side of the silver napkin holder, where the restaurant's menu was pasted. It seemed the only thing there was to eat were beignets, whatever those were, and drinks such as coffee, tea and milk.

The place WAS crowded, though. The tables were jammed in as close as physically possible, and the patrons had barely enough room to sit in. The entire restaurant area was open-air, giving it a almost Parisian feel. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, baked goods and sugar, and outside the black wrought-iron fence around the perimeter of the café, fat grey pigeons hopped around, waiting for crumbs to fall.

"Hey, Ryo..." Dee leaned over close to his lover, a smirk on his face. "Is it just strange that all the workers are Asian?"

"Dee!" Ryo exclaimed in a whisper, smacking the dark-haired detective on his arm.

"What! It's true!" Dee replied in a low tone as three Asian waitresses, their arms full of trays, quickly swept past them.

"Just shush and tell me what you want to drink."

The two entered whispered conversation briefly before a short black-haired man came up to them. He was dressed in khaki slacks and the green and white striped uniform shirts, a paper soda jerk hat perched atop his head. He set two small glasses of water before them, the glass clanking on the marble tabletop. "What you want?" he asked in rough English, his eyes bored.

Dee tried hard to hide a smirk as Ryo ordered two plates of beignets and two cups of coffee. It was brought out in relatively short order, placed before them with disinterest by their waiter, whom the half-Japanese New Yorker payed before he left.

The New York natives eyed the beignets; each plate contained three squares of fried pastry, roughly two by four inches, and COVERED in powdered sugar. Obsidian eyes met jade ones and the two lovers shrugged.

"I guess... we just..." Dee said, picking one up delicately by the corners. A mountain of powdered sugar sifted as the French pastry was moved, thick granules falling off the sides. Dee leaned over and bit into it.

Powdered sugar blew up into his face, sticking to his hair. Jade eyes widened in surprise.

Ryo started laughing.

Dee bit off the corner, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "Not bad. Messy, but not bad."

Ryo was still giggling as he dipped a napkin in his water to wipe a streak of white powder off his lover's face. "So it was worth it?"

"Eh," Dee replied, going for another bite. This time, the sugar didn't kick back as much, and Dee chewed the steaming delicacy. "Better than those pra-lean things we got yesterday."

"It's pronounced 'praw-leanes', actually," came a feminine voice from Ryo's other side, drawing the two detectives' attention. A young woman put her coffee mug down on the tabletop before turning to them, a smile tugging at her lips. "And y'all must be Yankees, yes?"

She was very pale-skinned black, a café au lait color and obviously half-black like Bikky. Her hair was a lighter color brown and in thick wavy ringlets, pulled back in a high tight ponytail before cascading down to her mid back. A pair of gaudy dangle earrings hung from her earlobes, and she looked at them over imitation designer sunglasses. Her southern accent was soft, with a hint of French laced through it.

"How could you tell?" Ryo asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Y'all have an accent. It's unnoticeable from where y'all're from, but it's plain as day down here." She turned sideways in her seat, crossing one long, smooth leg over the other at the knee. "Lemme guess... New York?"

"She's good," Dee muttered, going for another bite of beignet and ending up with another face full of powdered sugar. He grumbled to himself, swatting at the streaks that ran down his shirt; however it seemed to make the sugar cling to the fabric even more.

"There's a trick to these," the young woman said, picking up a beignet off her own plate. She showed it to the tourists, making sure they saw the pile of powdered sugar on the top of her square before delicately biting into it. The sugar on top trembled slightly, but otherwise didn't move, and she pulled back, chewing and biting her lips. After she swallowed, she smiled at them. "Breathe in whenever you bite down."

Ryo smiled at her, going for his own breakfast. "Thank you."

"_Mais oui_, but of course," she replied, standing and smoothing out her clothing. "_Bonne journeé_, good day gentlemen, I hope that our paths shall cross again."

The two detectives stared after her as she left, crossing Decatur and disappearing into the French Quarter crowd. Ryo took her advice and breathed in through his nose as he bit into the pastry, grinning at his lover as he chewed, free of powdered sugar.

Dee, in retribution, leaned over and licked a spot of sugar off the corner of Ryo's lips.

"Dee!" the blonde hissed, although he leaned into the contact. "We're in public!"

"Hey, you're teasing me, so I'm teasing you," the dark-haired man replied, kissing his lover's sugar-sweetened lips. "Besides, we're on vacation. They don't know us."

A small gust of wind blew something against Ryo's foot, and he broke away from the enjoyable activity of kissing Dee to look down. Something that looked like a playing card was fluttering against his shoe. He leaned down to pick it up.

On the face of the card was a hand holding a gold chalice. A dove holding what looked like the communion in a Catholic mass in its beak was above the chalice. At the bottom of the card were the following words: _Ace of Cups. Inflexible will; unalterable law._

Ryo heard Dee's voice call his name and he looked up. "Turn the card over, Ryo," Dee told him, his eyes wide.

Ryo did so, his own eyes widening in shock.

The back of the card was stained with blood.  
---


	3. The High Priestess

Chapter Two: The High PriestessDate Written: 9/12/05  
Rating: Same as Chapter Zero  
Characters/Pairings: Dee, Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, Murder, Hoodoo use  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way through book 7  
Notes: The second chapter! This chapter originally had a lemon in it, which I have posted over on my livejournal and AFF.N

* * *

_Jackson Square (formerly Place des Armes) is a city-block sized open park, at the old center of the city. After the Battle of New Orleans it was named after victorious general Andrew Jackson; an equestrian statue of Jackson is in the center of the park._

_The square originally overlooked the Mississippi River across Decatur Street, but the view was blocked in the 19th century by the building of larger levees. The riverfront was long given to shipping, but the administration of Mayor Moon Landrieu put in a scenic boardwalk along the river across from the Square; it is known as the "Moon Walk" in his honor._

_On the opposite side of the square are three 18th century historic buildings which were the city's heart in the colonial era. The center of the three is Saint Louis Cathedral. The Cathedral is designated as a minor Basilica by Pope John Paul II. To its left is the Cabildo, the old city hall, now a museum, where the finalization of the Louisiana Purchase was signed. To the Cathedral's right is the Presbytere, built to match the Cabildo. The Presbytere originally housed the city's Roman Catholic priests and authorities, it was then turned into a courthouse at the start of the 19th century, and in the 20th century became a museum._

_On the other two sides of the square are the Pontalba Buildings, matching red-brick block long 4 story buildings built in the 1840s. The ground floors house shops and restaurants; the upper floors are apartments that are the oldest continuously rented such apartments in North America._

_Directly across from Jackson Square is the Jax Brewery building, the original home of a favorite local beer. After the company ceased to operate independently, the building was converted into several businesses, including restaurants and specialty shops. In recent years, some retail space has been converted into luxury condominiums._

_From the 1920s through the 1980s the square was famous as a gathering place of painters of widely varying talents, including proficient professionals, talented young art students, hacks, and dreadful caricaturists. In the 1990s the artists were largely driven away by tarot card readers, mimes, and fortune tellers._

_Live music is a regular feature of the square. Occasional formal concerts are held here, but for a century or more musicians playing for tips have set up in the square, the subject of unending controversy with nearby residents._

_Diagonally across the square from the Cabildo is Café du Monde, open 24 hours a day, well known for the café au lait with chicory and beignets served there continuously since the 19th century.  
---_from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

* * *

Ryo sighed as he leaned on the balcony railing of the hotel room he and Dee had gotten. To his left sat St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson Square. Huge floodlights cast their beams on the white marble sides of the Catholic church, drawing the eye to it. The black iron fences around Jackson Square were locked tight for the night, but the statue of Andrew Jackson on his horse could be seen over the trees. Beyond the French Quarter, his dark eyes could barely make out the Mississippi, slowly winding its way alongside the Crescent City. Down the street to his right, Royal Street and beyond it Burbon Street were brightly lit and busy. The mixing of rock and cajun music along with laughs and jeers from the streets' patrons made a heady brew, making Ryo's blood spin. 

The half-Japanese detective looked down at the ornate, Spanish-style iron, his fingertips caressing the cool metal as his dark eyes unfocused, drifting back to the New Orleans' precinct he and Dee had visited earlier that day.

The precinct was old, and had that well-worn, frayed at the edges type of dirt that was ground into the floor tiles and soaked into the walls; the kind that only years of polishing or a complete renovation could get out. It was crowded, too, the benches and walls full of people waiting to talk to an officer. However, both the detectives were smart enough to head back to the hotel and get their badges before going to the precinct, and the shiny gold shields had given them immediate assistance.

The detectives they spoke to about the case were quite hush-hush about the entire thing, but Ryo hadn't liked the way their eyes lit up when he produced the bloodied tarot card. They had taken their fingerprints to eliminate the contamination that had occurred when they picked up the card, taken their hotel information and given them a small business card in case they remembered anything else.

Ryo sighed. His gut told him that there was more to this than they were letting on, but his head told him to drop it. He was on vacation. He was supposed to relax.

Two strong arms encircled his waist, pulling him back against a warm body. Ryo smiled and turned his head up into the kiss Dee placed against the shell of his ear. "Hey, wanna go on over to Burbon Street? I hear they've got some gay bars over there."

Ryo rolled his eyes. "Just what I need," he teased, turning his head to look at his lover. "Some sweet thang with a southern accent stealing you away and leaving me all alone."

"You'd have the music to go along with the mood," Dee teased back, and Ryo nudged him with his elbow. "Aw, Ryo, you know I'd never leave you."

Ryo crossed his arms and sulked in Dee's embrace, squirming away from the soft kisses Dee began pressing against his neck.

The two lovers backed into their hotel room, swaying slowly in time with the jazz music floating in through the window from one of the bars along St. Anne's Street, the street their hotel, the Place d'Armes, was located on. The slow seduction of the dancing and music, along with Dee's drugging kisses along his neck and face, made Ryo's angry facade fade as the half-Japanese blonde leaned into the loving caresses. Dee's fingers slowly drifted down his torso, thumbs hooking into his belt loops before spinning Ryo around to look him in the eyes.

Ryo's hands slid up to tangle in Dee's dark hair, the taller man leaning down to give the blonde a proper kiss, the first of the night. They continued dancing to the slow beat of the jazz music, their mouths gently caressing one another. Dee pulled Ryo's shirt out of his pants, ghosting his fingers over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of Ryo's pants, making the blonde moan moan into their kiss and lean against his lover. His hands slid down underneath the collar of Dee's shirt, tickling the short hairs on the back of his neck, grinning inwardly when Dee moaned as well.

The two slowly undressed one another, clothes dropping to the ground as they slowly rotated, clinging to one another as their tongues slid over and around one another. Once they were divested of their clothing, the two of them fell onto the bed, hands sliding over humidity-wet skin. Dee bit down gently on Ryo's pulse point, licking and sucking the delicate skin as he ground their hips together, slick intimate flesh sliding against one another. Ryo groaned, tugging at Dee's hair.

"Dee... please... want you...!"

Dee smirked as he nipped at Ryo's ear before smiling down at his lover. "You are so easy."

"Just shut up and do me..." Ryo replied, reaching for the lube.

Dee reached over as well, their fingers getting in one another's way as they reached for the bottle. Dee's finger found it first, and he sat back, grinning down at Ryo before leaning up and kissing his lover deeply. Although the two of them had been lovers for a years, and although Ryo had considerably loosened up when it came to their bedroom activities, there were still traces of that shy, inexperienced lover that he first have known.

The two of them made love with the windows wide open, sultry jazz floating into the room and covering them like a blanket. Afterwards, the two lovers snuggled against one another as their pulses slowed to less-than-critical levels, sharing lazy kisses and gentle caresses. The two shivered when a cool breeze blew through the open window, and Ryo reached down to pull the covers up over both of them.

* * *

Down below, across St. Anne's, a black-clad figure wearing a fedora smiled. Dark eyes cut up towards the open window, where sexual and love energy poured down onto the paved street like a waterfall. 

"Too bad... It's tainted," the figure lamented, tugging the hat down over dark eyes.

A hooker dressed in a mini skirt and fishnet stockings crossed the street, heading towards Burbon. The smile curved upwards a little more.

"Ah, well... I can get it from other places..."


	4. The Empress

Chapter 3: The Empress  
Date Written: 9/14/05  
Rating: K+  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, Murder, Hoodoo use  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way through Book 7  
Notes: St. Louis Cathedral was the church that was in the background last night during Bush's address to the nation. And parts of New Orleans should be reopening for what business they can do next week!

* * *

_Saint Louis Cathedral is the cathedral in the French Quarter of New Orleans, Louisiana. Three Roman Catholic churches have been on this spot since 1727. The first version of the current Cathedral was constructed in the 1790s; the building was extensively renovated into its current appearance in the 1850s. While not one of the largest or grandest of the city's Catholic churches, this historic Cathedral remains an important religious and social center and a landmark for tourism._

_While Hurricane Katrina did not affect the French Quarter as profoundly as other parts of New Orleans, the high winds managed to displace two large oak trees by the Cathedral. In the process, thirty feet of ornamental gate was dislodged, while the marble statue of Jesus Christ lost a thumb and a forefinger.  
_--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, all everyone could talk about was the murder on St. Anne's, just a block down the street from the hotel. The hotel manager actually came into the breakfast room and spoke personally with all the patrons to let them know they were perfectly safe. 

Dee momentarily wished he had brought his gun.

Instead, while Ryo went back to the room to call Mother and check in on Bikky, Dee went across the street to the Cathedral.

He wasn't a practicing Catholic, although Mother had baptized him as a baby and he had gone through the confirmation rites, but he always felt drawn to holy ground when he was worried about something. He assumed it was from growing up in a Church, familiar surroundings and whatnot.

The holy water was surprisingly cool on his fingers as he crossed himself, walking down the long aisle that lead to the altar. St. Louis Cathedral had long rows of hard wooden pews and high, vaulted ceilings. Prayer candles flickered in front of statues of Mary and Jesus and other saints, and Dee stood in the middle of the church aisle, staring up at the crucifix hanging on the wall behind the altar, his mind blissfully blank.

"Is there a problem, my child?"

Dee turned to see a dark-skinned priest standing behind him, short curly white hair adorning his head. He was carrying an armful of hymnals, and looked concerned.

"No, Father. I'm going to Hell anyway, so it's not worth your time," the detective laughed at his own joke.

The priest, however, wasn't amused. "If you'd like, I'm free to hear your confession."

"Thank you, but no. Being with the one I love may be considered a sin by some, but never to me."

To Dee's surprise, the holy man chuckled at that statement. He placed a friendly hand on the detective's shoulder, smiling up at him. "What the world--and what this religion--needs is nore people like you."

At Dee's puzzled look, he explained. "In today's time, with people running planes into buildings and praying for others to die and doing a plethora of hateful things to one another all in the name of God, for Chrissakes, what we need are people like you who love unashamedly and unapologetically."

Dee was slightly taken aback by the outpouring of emotion from the shorter man before him. The priest, however, chuckled at the shocked look and patted his cheek like a fond uncle.

"Faith, hope and love, my son, faith, hope and love."

* * *

Dee lit a cigarette the moment his feet hit the marble steps of the cathedral. The nicotine hits his lungs and flooded his veins, calming his frazzled nerves. Such emotion from a stranger was slightly unnerving. 

"Father DuBois can be quite observant at times," a soft voice floated into his ears. He looked down at the source of the voice and saw the same woman he and Ryo had encountered in Café du Monde sitting on the wide, shallow steps. Her arms were hugging her knees to her chest, a long brown peasant skirt rising to her mid-shin. She stood, brushing off her rear and smiled winningly at the detective.

"What are you doing here, stalking me?" Dee half-joked, raising an eyebrow.

The woman scoffed. "Please don' tease me. If I was to stalk someone, it would be that _trés magnifique_ lover of yours."

"How did you--" Dee's question was cut off when the coffee colored woman reached into her pocket and withdrew a card, flashing him the face. A naked man and woman were holding hands in the foreground of a meadow scene, and the label The Lovers jumped at him from the bottom of the card. He frowned, looking over the top of the card into her eyes. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black, and Dee was instantly reminded of Ryo. "Who are you?"

The girl dropped a polite curtsy. "You may call me Marie, Monsieur. I often read tarot cards here in the Square. Maybe one day I will read your fortune, oui?"

"We'll see," Dee replied, looking at Marie with a weary eye. Something about the tarot cards set him on edge, but he couldn't explain why.

"Dee! There you are!"

Jade eyes lifted upwards where Ryo was leaning on the balcony railing, waving at him. "Hey, Mother says hello, and Bikky's fine. What are you doing down there?"

"I'm just talking to--"

Dee's reply cut short as he looked at the air around him. Marie had--seemingly--vanished into thin air.

"--No one"


	5. The Emperor

Chapter 4, The Emperor  
Date Written: 9/14/05  
Rating: Same as Chapter Zero  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, Murder, Hoodoo use  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way through Book 7  
Notes: Does God hate us? Rita just got upgraded to a 3. It might be a long time until the next chapter... And the original version of this chapter can be found over on AFF.N

* * *

_The spell is a magical act intended to cause an effect on reality using supernatural means of liturgical or ritual nature. When the goal of such spell is to guess the future it is usually named divination or augury and when it tries to put someones's will under control, enchantment or incantation. It is a substantial component of many Pagan religions and can also be found in some monotheistic religions like Islam, whereas others like Christianity explicitly forbid this practice. Medieval collections of spells were called grimoires._

_Spells were probably developed during the Neolithic magical belief period and have been practiced since then both in accepted and clandestine environments. They were common in Pagan societies as part of massive official holidays promoted by authorities: this activity is well documented in a number of historical sources and has even survived in vodunist or shamanic religion areas. On the opposite, practitioners were harshly prosecuted in other places and ages, specially in areas whose state religion was Christianism. Nowadays practitioners are protected under the freedom of belief, a fundamental right regarded by most democratic countries, although hoaxes based on the gullibility and need to believe of many people are usually punished as frauds._

_Typically, a spell is a symbolic representation of the purported effect performed under the invocation of a deity. It can even be an unwilling instantaneous action with no specific shape, like some forms of Evil Eye. But in more developed Pagan beliefs, spells have the following general structure:_

_- Preparation, when all needed products are disposed in the appropriate location and the involved individuals perform preliminary activities like fasting, praying, etc.  
- Overture to start the ritual or liturgical performance, create an appropriate, solemn "magical environment" and reinforce the communion effect among participants.  
- Invocation, when the cooperation of supernatural forces is requested to take the spell to reality.  
- Execution, where all ritualized magical acts belonging to the spell are precisely performed.  
- Sacrifice, when a symbolic or tangible gift is offered to participating deities.  
- Closure, to solemnize the end of the act and dissolve the "magical environment" created during the overture._

--From Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

* * *

A young mulatto woman shivered apprehensively. her eyes cut up to look at her customer, a figure clad in a black pinstripe suit, a black fedora covering his eyes. The candle flickering on her small table cast faint light and sharp shadows on his face.

His black eyes seemed to suck up what light reached it.

She tore her gaze from his, looking down at her table. She was in the middle of a tarot card reading, her hand hovering just above the final card. Her instict was to run, leave the reading half-done, and fuck the consequences.

She had never seen a reading this bleak before.

The cards told her that this customer was... evil. That he would kill to gain power.

That he already had.

Her hand barely touched the back of the final card, and she felt a shudder run through her arm. She swallowed thickly, but turned it over anyway.

The Tower Card. The worst card in the entire Major Arcana.

"Well, well, well... Looks like you lose."

Dark brown eyes snapped up to stare at her customer, eyes wide with fear. He grabbed her frizzy brown hair fiercely, knocking the table over. The candle gutted out on the cold stone of Jackson Square, scented wax hardening immediately. She opened her mouth to scream, but found she couldn't. He smiled and waved a gloved hand at her, and she cursed inwardly.

There was hoodoo magic all over it. He had cursed her the moment he touched her.

He yanked her head back, exposing her throat in the pale light of the secluded square. He leaned down, inhaling her scent and licking at her skin.

And she couldn't even shudder. Bastard...

"_Bonne nuit, ma petite_," he whispered into her ear, reaching across her neck to slide the cool metal of a knife across her throat. He pulled it back towards him, and the blade bit into her skin.

Warm sticky blood spilled across the murder's clothing and the cold stone. Her breathing became short and labored, the blood from her main arteries flowing down her trachea into her lungs. She was drowning, the world was getting darker...

Ryo sat straight up in bed, gasping, his dark eyes wide. A dream... Just a dream...

But it seemed so REAL.

Next to him, Dee sat up as well, awoken by Ryo's sudden movement. The arm around the half-Japanese detective's waist tightened as a soothing hand came up to rub at his back soothingly. "Nightmare?" he asked, his voice groggy and rough with sleep.

"Yeah."

"Shhh..." Dee pressed a gentle kiss underneath Ryo's ear. "It was just a dream. It wasn't real."

Ryo slowly relaxed under his lover's gentle caresses and soothing words. Of course it was a dream. It was so vivid because he encountered death on a nearly daily basis. His mind was working overtime--this vacation would be just what he needed.

Dee nuzzled his neck comfortingly with his nose, and Ryo turned into the loving touch. The faint light that filtered in through the hotel curtains from St. Anne street made it so that Ryo could barely make out Dee's beautiful jade eyes. The dark-haired man kissed him sweetly, brushing Ryo's honey brown hair out of his dark eyes. "Feel a little better?"

Ryo nodded, looping his arms around Dee's neck and snuggling in close to his lover. Although he knew it was only a dream, it had still rattled him. Now, he craved the close physical contact of another person, wanted the touch that only Dee could give him.

The dream had shown death; now he wanted to feel alive.


	6. The High Priest

Chapter 5, The High Priest  
Date Written: 9/21/05  
Rating: PG-13 (I swear I wasn't planning it, but a frickin' sex scene cropped up in the original. Damn plot runnin' away with itself)  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, Murder, Hoodoo use  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way through Book 7  
Notes: Bourbon Street rocks. Although there is one place in it I've never been down--the section that's all gay clubs. : snort : I kid you not. And another note: I honestly have no idea if the way I wrote the voodoo doll schematics are the real thing, it's just the way I've heard. Unedited version over on AFF.N, if anyone wants the website for where I got the Hurricane Recipie, email me!

* * *

_Hurricane Drink Recipe _

_2 ounces amber rum 1/4 cup passion fruit juice, or 1 tablespoon passion fruit syrup 1 teaspoon superfine sugar 1/2 teaspoon grenadine Juice of 1/2 lime Cherries and orange slice to garnish Ice cubes_

_In a cocktail shaker mix the rum, passion fruit juice and sugar until sugar is dissolved. Add the grenadine, and lemon juice and stir to combine. Add the ice cubes and shake. Strain Hurricane into a cocktail glass. Garnish with orange and cherries. Yield: 1 serving_

_Interesting tidbits of the origin of this famous drink:_

_The creation of this passion-colored relative of a Daiquiri drink is credited to Pat O'Brien. He is reported to have invented the Hurricane in the 1940s in New Orleans. Rumors say he needed to get rid of all the rum that Southern distributors forced him to buy before he could get a few cases of other spirits. He poured the concoction into hurricane-lamp-shaped glasses and gave it away to sailors. The drink caught on, and it's been part of the celebration ever since._

_Pat O'Brien operated a speakeasy during prohibition known as, "Mr. O'Brien's Club Tipperary". The password to get in was, "storm's brewin'". In 1933, after the repeal of prohibition, he moved across the street, opened Pat O'Brien's, and later down to the present location at 718 St. Peter, in the French Quarter. During W.W.II, it was difficult to get whiskey, but rum was in ample supply. With the help of the liquor salesman, this cocktail was born. It is served in a 26 oz. Hurricane glass, which is named after the shape of a hurricane lamp and the drink._

--from Cajun Cooking Recipes

* * *

Bourbon Street was loud, crowded and flashy. Bars lined the street, studded with strip bars and voodoo shops. Drunks and cops mingled on the street, along with men and women (both usually dressed as women) hawking topless bars and prolonged Happy Hours. 

Dee loved it.

Ryo, however, was watching everything with eyes the size of tea saucers, his hand firmly grasping Dee's.

They stopped momentarily at Pat O'Brien's for a drink, and continued down Bourbon with large paper cups full of blue slush.

Dee watched Ryo shake his cup apprehensively. "It kinda looks like a blue sno cone," the blonde told his lover, prodding at the vivid blue mixture with the clear straw they had been provided.

The green-eyed man shrugged, lifting the white cup to his lips. The powerful scent of rum and sugar hit his nostrils, and his eyes widened in surprise as the slush slid over his tongue.

Ryo laughed as Dee lowered the cup. "That bad?"

"It tastes like battery acid," Dee replied, swallowing thickly.

Ryo chuckled, but took a sip anyway. Dee watched the bright blue drink travel up the straw and disappear between Ryo's lips. Dee shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the sight instantly aroused him. "Well?" he asked when the half-Japanese man pulled his mouth from the straw.

"Sweet. Not too bad, actually," Ryo replied before sucking on the straw again.

The two continued drinking their Hurricanes and walking down the street, the alcohol relaxing their reserves. Eventually the two were walking down the street with Dee's arms around Ryo's waist (and a hand down one of the blonde's side pocket), ignoring all the looks they were getting.

At the end of Bourbon Street there was a small voodoo mom-and-pop-style shop, and the two climbed the stoop to enter the shop. A sign on the door displayed a voodoo doll stuck full of pins above the words "shoplifters will be prosecuted". The two snickered to themselves and pushed the door open.

The shop was brightly lit and slightly musty from the racks of incense and walls full of different herbs. Bookshelves were overflowing with books, statuettes of idols to worship and candles which were neatly lined up on the wooden shelves. A glass case by the cash register displayed necklaces and other oculist jewelry, along with packs of tarot cards. A young man, around twenty or so with a long brown ponytail, was leaning on the case, reading a newspaper. He looked up when they walked in, pushing his glasses up on his face. "Hey, y'all be careful with those Hurricanes, ok?"

Dee and Ryo nodded, and the man grinned back. "Y'all lemme know if y'all need anything," he replied before going back to reading his paper.

The two slightly inebriated detectives perused the shelves, giggling like teenagers at the books on sexual voodoo and moving along the scented incense and herbs. They parted momentarily, Dee taking his time reading about the uses of certain plants while Ryo went to another bookshelf to look.

"Hey, Dee, c'mere," Ryo called, his head popping out behind the bookshelf. Dee looked up from a glass jar full of rosemary ('use in memory potions') and walked over to Ryo, wrapping his arms around the blonde from behind. "This candle smells really good," the detective told him, holding up a red candle for him to inspect.

Dee leaned over and inhaled, the scent of flowers mingling in his mind. "Mmm, it does," the dark-haired man replied before burying his face into the crook of Ryo's neck. "You smell better though," he mumbled against the pale skin, grinning inwardly at the way his lover squirmed under the movement of his lips.

"Dee, for Christ's sakes..." Ryo's protest trailed off as Dee pressed kisses against the sensitive skin along the blonde's neck.

"Shhh..." Dee replied, slipping a hand under Ryo's shirt to massage the soft skin of his stomach. Ryo whimpered under the touch, leaning back against the taller man.

"If'n dis keeps up, I'm gonna hafta use all dis aura in a spell."

The two lovers jumped, and looked over to find Marie smiling at them, her lean milk coffee colored arms crossed over a black silk shirt. Instead of the usual distaste that most people viewed their relationship with, she was smiling. "Damn, don' stop. _Trés chaud_, ver'y hot."

"Why do I keep running into you?" Dee asked as he saw Ryo's ears turn bright pink in embarrassment.

"B'cause 'm fond of y'all," she replied, smiling and introducing herself to Ryo.

Ryo, in turn, frowned inwardly. She seemed familiar, from someplace other than du Monde's. He shook it off anyway, smiling and conversing with the girl. She explained how a voodoo doll worked ("t'ree strands 'o 'air and a personal item from da person"), teasing them in a good-natured way about their relationship and suggested a few hoodoo aphrodisiacs (which Ryo quickly nixed, much to Dee's dismay) while she did her shopping, loading candles and incense into her arms before taking them over to the checkout. The two natives engaged in a friendly conversation that was laced with French (mostly on Marie's part) and local slang. The man smiled warmly at the girl, who blew him a kiss and informed him that she'd be praying for him.

The three left the shop together, Marie curtsying politely to the two before turning a corner and disappearing into the crowds off Bourbon. Dee and Ryo headed back towards St. Anne's street, but Dee was surprised when Ryo pulled him into a side alley, pushing him up against the brick wall of one of the buildings, pressing up against his body to kiss him passionately. Ryo's fingers were digging into Dee's clothing, clutching at him with a force that was close to fabric-ripping, and Dee grabbed the older man's wrists, pulling the frantic man away from his body (which protested fiercely) to look down into his eyes. "Not that I'm complaining, but what the hell has gotten into you?" Dee asked, his brows furrowed.

"I don't know," Ryo panted, straining against the touch to try and kiss any part of Dee he could get in contact with him. "But if I don't have you now, I'm going to go insane."

"Ryo," Dee said with a calmness he didn't feel. "We're in a side alley of a VERY public street and you're looking at me like I'm a freakin' steak. Now I don't know if it was the drink or what, but can this at least wait until we get back to the hotel?"

"I don't know!" the blonde replied, fighting against his lover's grasp. Dee spun them around so Ryo was the one with his back to the wall.

"Then I'll give you a little something to tide you over," Dee replied, leaning up against Ryo, sandwiching between himself and the cold brick wall, kissing him hard. Ryo moaned into the kiss, kissing back with unusual--but not unwelcomed--ferocity. The blonde tried to wrap his long legs around Dee's, but the dark-haired man motioned for him to remain standing. Dee slid his hands up underneath Ryo's tee, his mouth moving down to suck on the blonde's pulse point, grinning against inflamed skin as Ryo panted with pleasure. The tips of his fingers skimmed lightly over Ryo's sensitized skin, scraping his fingernails over the tightened nubs, enjoying the way his lover arched into his embrace.

While one thumb teased a nipple, the other skimmed down Ryo's stomach, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants...

Afterwards, Dee held his shivering body, pressing kisses against his face and lips.

Dee smirked as he pulled back far enough to smile into his lover's face. "We'd better get back to that hotel room."

Ryo smiled as looped his arms around Dee's neck. "Let's run"

* * *

Dee and Ryo tore out of the alley, Ryo in the lead, their hands linked. Underneath a pinstripe awning, someone dressed in a black suit and a fedora was smoking a cigarette. The two lovers nearly ran into the man, Dee calling out an apology as they continued on their way to the privacy of their hotel. 

A gloved thumb pushed the fedora up enough to reveal eerie black eyes. An evil grin contorted the face.

Unnoticed, hanging out of Dee's back pocket, a silver charm clinked inaudibly.


	7. The Lovers

Chapter Six: The Lovers  
Date Written: 9/26/05  
Rating: R to NC-17 (Damn plot running away with itself again)  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through Book 7  
Notes: The following about voodoo is bull. I'm using liberal use of the steriotypical fantasy-genre 'magic.

* * *

_Marie Laveau (1794? - June 16, 1881?) was an American practitioner of voodoo._

_For such an important figure in American folklore, very little can be known certainly about her life. She is supposed to have been born in the French Quarter of New Orleans, Louisiana in 1794, the daughter of a white planter and a black woman. She married Jacques Paris, a free Black, on August 4, 1819; her marriage certificate is preserved in Saint Louis Cathedral in New Orleans._

_M. Paris died in 1820 under unexplained circumstances; after his death, Marie Laveau became a hairdresser who catered to wealthy white families. She took a lover, Luis Christopher Duminy de Glapion, with whom she lived until his death in 1835._

_Of her magical career, little definite can be said. She is said to have had a snake called Zombi. Oral traditions suggest that the occult part of her magic mixed Roman Catholic beliefs and saints with African spirits and religious concepts. It is also alleged that her feared magical powers came in fact from a network of informants in the households of the prominent that she developed while a hairdresser._

_On June 16, 1881, the New Orleans newspapers announced that Marie Laveau had died. This is noteworthy if only because she continued to be seen in the town after her supposed demise. It is claimed that one of her daughters by M. Glapion assumed her name and carried on her magical practice after her death._

_She is buried in Saint Louis Cemetery #1 in New Orleans, in the Glapion family crypt. The tomb continues to attract visitors who draw three crosses (XXX) on its side, hoping that her spirit will grant them a wish._

--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia.

* * *

Beneath an overhang across the street from Place d'Armes, a man in a black suit and fedora leaned against a brick wall, smoking a cigarette. He pushed his hat up slightly, smoke curling around his face and hat before drifting skywards. Dark eyes fixed on the open second-story window of the hotel across from him, and he grinned. 

Lustful energy poured from the window, free of the love and care that had been mingling in it only days before.

Not that the few people walking Jackson Square and St. Anne's could see it: It was only something that a hoodoo user could see, although others could feel the effects of it. He noticed that a few drunken couples were groping one another further down the street, the fringes of the aura mixing with the alcohol in their blood.

A gloved hand slid into his pocket, pulling out a blood red stone. His dark eyes greedily watched the aura trickle into the stone, a small flame flickering deep inside it, growing brighter and brighter in his hand. The flow ebbed from the window, but his face didn't show any worry.

He had hidden a trump card with the two lovers. Their bodies needed rest at the moment, but soon would be supplying him with more sweet energy.

_Soon... I'm so close..._

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The voice was clipped and accented, but the English was almost formally perfect, not the normal jargon he was used to hearing in that voice. He tapped ash off the end of his cigarette, not looking up. He tried to discretely slide his hand into his pocket, hiding the jewel, distracting his opponent by taking a drag on his cigarette, the cherry end flaring as it burned paper and tobacco.

"Hello _Mademoiselle_ Marie Laveau."

"I said it once, I'll say it again. What the hell are you doing here?" Marie demanded, crossing her arms.

The man dressed in black took another long drag on his cigarette, drawing the tension out a little longer, making her sweat. "Good vibes."

"Good vibes?" the woman nearly spit his own words back at him, her face contorted in fury. She gathered up her long skirts, storming across the paved street to stand eye to eye with him. "You'd better leave those two the fuck alone."

"Ooh, so you've gotten wind of them as well." The man smirked down at her. "They're pretty as well as useful, no? Interested, ma petite? Hoping they'll let you participate, or do you just prefer to watch?"

"You're sick."

"I am." Black eyes lingered on a black choker around her neck, and he brought a finger up to trace the front. "So graceful. You shouldn't cover your body like that."

Her hand moved before he could see it, catching him across the cheek. The skin stung, and his hat fell to the ground, his face still hidden by shadows. The man tutted, putting a hand over his cheek. "Now now, my pet." His hand snatched out to grab her throat, and he pressed her up against the wall, smiling at her in a way that sent shivers down her spine. "You shouldn't exhibit such behavior towards your master," he scolded, bringing his face to her ear and licking it wetly.

Marie shivered, but pushed him away. "Bastard. One day I'm going to kill you."

"Yes, yes, and you'll dance on my grave, won't you Marie?" the man replied, brushing a thumb over her bottom lip. "Go draw your silly x's on your grandmother's grave. Then come see me. My magic's stronger than a dead woman's."

He pressed two fingers against his lips, then against Marie's. The woman flinched, turning her face away.

The man laughed, stooping briefly to pick up his fedora before disappearing into the shadows of the French Quarter.

* * *

Dee Laytner yawned, leaning against the railing clad in nothing but a towel. The city was quiet, the predawn stillness reminding him vaguely of the New York. Even Bourbon Street was relatively calm, with only a few late-late night drunks stumbling around the streets in the predawn light. 

His entire body felt sore. Since Ryo's... exuberance... the night before on Bourbon Street, the quickie in the alley had done nothing to put an edge on the blonde's sex drive--in fact, they had ended up taking the stairs because they missed the floor three times taking the elevator (although, and Dee smirked as he thought of this, there were only two floors in the hotel), and even then the two had ended up fucking like animals halfway up the flight, Ryo's back pressed up against the wall as he sat on the railing, moaning like a porn star as Dee took him.

By the time they ended up at their room, both their hands fumbling to unlock the room, whatever that had gotten into Ryo had also gotten into Dee. The two barely made it to their bed, both men stripping clothing off themselves and one another, fingers ripping at stubborn clothing and catches. Finally, with minimal preparation, Ryo had been bent over the mattress, crying into the comforter as his lover thrust into him hard and fast.

Dee raised a hand to his face, rubbing the skin in an attempt to keep himself awake. He had never thought that he would be able to have sex with Ryo as much as he had the previous night, but it had been no effort at all (although now he was feeling the effects). At the moment, his lover was sleeping soundly in their bed, but something had drawn him to the window.

Now he knew why. The peacefulness over Jackson Quarter at the moment was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.

He heard Ryo stir in the bed behind him, and turned towards the sound. Seeing Ryo sleeping in their bed, the sunlight streaming through the open windows and turning his tousled dark blonde hair a lighter shade of blonde, and his pale skin standing out even more against the dark comforter.

The man sleeping before him was without a doubt the most beautiful thing in his world.

As he walked towards the bed to join his lover, his foot caught against the leg of his jeans. The pants moved along with his foot, and the detective stopped momentarily when he heard something clink against the floor. He reached down and rooted around in his pockets, his fingers curling around something cold and metal, which he hauled out to get a look at.

It was a half-dollar sized charm on a chain, all in silver with what looked like sunrays around the face of the charm, which were inlaid with pieces of yellow glass. The face of the charm had a deeply engraved mark on it, filled in with a slick red paint. Dee held it up by the end of the chain, staring at the charm as it spun this way and that in the early morning light. What the hell is this?

Ryo stirred in their bed again, dark brown eyes sliding open. He smiled as he saw his lover, raising his hand towards the dark-haired man.

Dee tossed the charm over his shoulder haphazardly, not noticing when it skidded over to the balcony--and off the side--to fall into Ryo's arms. The blonde snuggled up to him, nuzzling his neck and pressing warm kisses against the skin.

"Ryo, baby, I love you but I'm _tired_," Dee protested, and the blonde chuckled.

"Me too. But I sleep better when you're next to me."

The two lulled themselves to sleep, hands stroking up and down bare skin, and the gentle beating of one another's hearts playing soothing lullabies to the tired lovers.

* * *

When he awoke later that day, Dee didn't even remember the charm. 


	8. The Chariot

Chapter Seven: The Chariot  
Date Written: 10/9/05  
Rating: K+  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7  
Notes: Sorry this chapter has taken so long to get out! Silly plot bunnies dying on me and whatnot. A big thanks to everyone who's read my story so far! Hopefully these next chapters will further the plot more. (At least, that's what I'm hoping for)

* * *

_One of the more distinguished aspects of New Orleans Culture is the Jazz Funeral. Architect Benjamin Henry Latrobe noted in 1819 that the New Orleans Jazz funerals were, "peculiar to New Orleans alone among all American cities. The late JazzMan Danny Barker writing in his book Bourbon Street Black noted the funeral is seen as "a major celebration.The roots of the Jazz Funeral date back to Africa. Four centuries ago, the Dahomeans of Benin and the Yoruba of Nigeria, West Africa were laying the foundation for one of today's most novel social practices on the North American Continent, the Jazz Funeral."_

_The secret societies of the Dahomeans and Yoruba people assured fellow tribesmen that a proper burial would be performed at the time of death. To accomplish this guarantee, resources were pooled to form what many have labeled an early form of insurance._

_When slaves were brought to America, the idea of providing a proper burial to your fellow brother or sister remained strong. As time passed, these very same concepts that were rooted in African ideology became one of the basic principles of the social and pleasure club. The social and pleasure club guaranteed proper burial conditions as did many fraternal orders and lodges to any member who passed. These organizations were precursors to the concept of burial insurance and the debit insurance companies._

_The practice of having music during funeral processions, Danny Barker said, was added to the basic African pattern of celebration for most aspects of life including death. As the Brass Band became increasingly popular during the early 18th Century, they were frequently called on to play processional music. Eileen Southern in The Music of Black American wrote, "On the way to the cemetery it was customary to play very slowly and mournfully a dirge, or an 'old Negro spiritual' such as "Nearer My God to Thee," but on the return from the cemetery, the band would strike up a rousing, "When the Saints Go Marching In', or a ragtime song such as "Didn't He Ramble." Sidney Bechet, the renown New Orleans JazzMan after observing the celebrations of the jazz funeral stated, "music here is as much a part of death as it is of life."_

_The traditional New Orleans Jazz Funeral is as much a part of the fabric and rich cultural traditions of New Orleans as red beans and rice._

--from neworleansonline . com

* * *

A young woman standing on a wooden soapbox in Jackson Square sang to the passersby in a sweet a cappella. A few people stopped to listen, and she thanked those that dropped cumpled bills into the bowler hat at her feet. She was talented, so there was quite a pile of cash before her. And she was pretty, in a sort of 'white trash' bleached-blonde with dark roots kinda way. 

_Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,  
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;  
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,  
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream."_

"Burns," Ryo wispered to his partner as they listened to the singing.

Dee looked at his lover, dark eyebrows raised in curiosity and slight alarm. "What burns?"

"The song," Ryo replied, smiling at Dee. "The lyrics are by Robert Burns. It's his poem Afton Water he wrote about the Afton River in Scotland."

"How do you know that?"

Ryo fixed his dark gaze on the singing street preformer, avoiding Dee's intense emerald eyes. "My father was fond of Burns. He used to read his poetry to me when I was little."

Dee put an arm around Ryo's shoulders, pulling his partner close to his side and pressing a kiss against the pale forehead underneath the dark blonde strands.

They applauded politely when the song ended, Dee tossing a folded up fiver into the pile growing at the girl's feet. The taller detective looped an arm around the shorter's waist, hooking his thumb into one of Ryo's belt loops as they wandered the Quarter. There was a wide range of stores linging the streets, but by far the most were souvenir shops. It gave the city a very New York-ish air, with the tacky t-shirts and 'New Orleans' memorabilia displayed in the windows and local music flowing from the speakers, spilling into the streets. And where "I HEART NY" was plastered over everything at home, here the colors purple, green and yellow were everywhere.

Ryo tugged at his shirt sleeve as they wandered, stopping him. "Look, Dee," he motioned, pointing across the street. What looked like a prayer garden behind an old church was full of people. Whitewashed wrought iron had ivory vines twined around the intricate ironwork, the dark deep green contrasting against the bright white. Beyond the fence, he could barely make out marble slabs, about a foot thick but buried in the wild ivy.

"Huh, it's a graveyard," Dee replied. He looked over into dark eyes. "Wanna go over?"

Ryo shook his head furiously and Dee laughed. "Gives me the willies, man," the half-Japanese man said, shivering. Dee tightened his arms around the other man, pulling him closer and thoroughly enjoying the unconscious flush that covered the man's pale cheeks.

"Y'know... you look so cute when you blush."

"Stop," Ryo protested, his blush deepening when his lover leaned over to nibble the top of his ear.

"Really makes me want to go get you a Hurricane."

"Dee Latyner!" the blonde hissed, turning bright red and elbowing his lover in the stomach.

Dee, in turn, laughed. He knew his partner was just playing--hell, he hadn't even nudged him hard.

As the wandered the Quarter, they gradually became aware of the sound of jazz music. And not the music that was coming from the street preformers or splashing out onto the street from open stores, but the same type of music, a mix of upbeat gospel music and jazz improv, growing louder and louder. Finally, as they turned onto Bourbon Street, they could see a procession coming down the street: A horse and buggy, followed by a gathering of people walking behind it. The two could make out umbrellas--most either black or yellow, which threw Dee off a bit--over some of the people, who were spinning them around and dancing with them. Between the procession and the cart, however, was a small jazz band: a trombone player who was as tall and thin as his instrument; a white female clarinet with unruly brown hair and a blacked-out face so she could blend in with the rest of the band; a trumpeter who was playing with his all while still being able to pull off a look of arrogance; and a large tuba player dancing behind his three peers as if his instrument was weightless.

"I thought Bourbon Street was a closed road," Ryo whispered as the group drew closer. The wagon passed them, the stench of sweaty horse strong, and in the cart behind the animal, through the clear glass sides, they could make out a coffin.

"I guess they make exceptions," Dee replied, watching the funeral pass. Directly behind the band was an elderly black woman, dressed in grey and carrying a framed picture of a large black man, sobbing into a hankerchif while a man who looked like her son carried a black umbrella next to her. Themusic switched from the upbeat 'When the Saints Go Marching In' to a jazzy rendition of 'Amazing Grace', the procession slowing to stop before a bar. All of Bourbon Street was relatively quiet when the trumpet's last note sang high, echoing slightly in the silence as the golden instrument was lowered.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a middle-aged white woman was standing on the second landing of the bar, a megaphone up to her mouth. She was dressed in black as well, but her crimped hair was festooned with green, yellow and purple ribbons. "Today we have all come to say good-bye to our very dear friend, Mr. Timothy Hebert. Tim was a part-owner here, and became an owner so he wouldn't have to pay for his drinks no more."

The crowd chuckled and some of those gathered behind the casket lifted their umbrellas in a 'here here' motion.

"Now Tim, he had himself a philosophy. He often said the only things he ever needed was his wife, a bottle of Jack, and the Lord God." The megaphone went silent for a moment as the co-owner leaned over to get something next to her. Dee could hear the sniffling of the widow ten feet from him, and he hugged Ryo to him. _Give me just a little more time with him, please._

"Well, Timmy, you're with God now. And we're gonna hang onto that pretty wife o' yours; she's needed down here a little while longer." She showed a full bottle of Jack Daniels to the crowd, the white and black label unreadable from the height but unmistakable nonetheless. "Here's your Jack, to hold ya over."

With that, she tipped the bottle over, the clear amber liquid dribbling from the bottle and splashing onto the casket.

* * *

"That was rather interesting," Ryo remarked as the procession turned off Bourbon Street, the jazz music lively once again as it faded off into the distance. 

"I think 'interesting' is quite the understatement," Dee agreed, nodding his head.

"I forgot ya Yanks ain't neva seen a jazz funeral," came the soft feminine reply, signaling that Marie was around them.

"You know, there are anti-stalking laws in this country for a reason," Dee remarked, turning to mock-glower at her.

"I can' help it; y'all got such good energy I'm just attracted to y'all," she replied, grinning. "With all the negative energy floatin' around, it's refreshin' to come in contact with some postitive once'n a while."

Ryo was watching where the funeral party had disappeared. "Those are called jazz funerals?"

Marie nodded, curly brown hair bouncing. "They with th' Good Lord now; so instead o' mournin', we celebrate. They happy up there, why should we be sad for them?" A distant look crossed Marie's face. "Although that man was taken before his time, _cha_. I feel sorry for his _pauvre Madame_, I do."

"He was in an accident?"

"Murdered," Marie replied. "N'awlins has got itself a serial killer, it do. Usin' tarot cards."

Dee and Ryo exchanged glances. "Can you tell us more about this, Marie?" Ryo asked, cocking his head to one side.

Marie grinned. "Sure, but have y'all eaten yet? It's a long story, and I'm _starvin_."  
---


	9. Strength

Chapter Eight: Strength  
Date Written: 12/24/05  
Rating:K+  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7  
Notes: Sorry it's taken so long! I've been busy as hell with Rita and working--at a bookstore AND as an actual writer for my school paper!

* * *

_The muffuletta (with numerous alternate spellings) is a type of Sicilian bread, and the name of a sandwich from New Orleans, Louisiana made using it._

_The bread is a large, round, and somewhat flat loaf, around 10 inches (25 cm) across. It has a sturdy texture, and is described as being somewhat similar to focaccia._

_The muffaletta sandwich originated in 1906 at Central Grocery, operated by Salvatore Lupo, a Sicilian immigrant. The sandwich is popular with city natives and visitors, and has been described as "one of the great sandwiches of the world". Central Grocery still serves the sandwich using the original recipe; however, other variations of this sandwich are served throughout the city. The locals have differing opinions on which shop serves the best muffuletta._

_A typical muffuletta consists of one muffuletta loaf, split horizontally. The loaf is then covered with a marinated olive salad, then layers of ham, salami, mortadella, and provolone. The olive salad is considered the heart of the sandwich, and consists primarily of olives, along with celery, cauliflower, and carrot. The ingredients are combined, seasonings are added, covered in olive oil and allowed to combine for at least 24 hours. The sandwich is often heated through to soften the provolone._

--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

* * *

The line at Cafe Maspero was almost around the corner when Marie, Dee and Ryo queued up. "Th' wait 's worth it, though I'm sorry we gotta stand in line," Marie said, smiling at them.

"Don't worry, it's the same in New York," Ryo reassured her, a smile gracing his face.

Marie laughed. "True Yankees! Y'all live in the city?"

"Born and raised," Ryo replied.

"_Moi aussi_, me too. Nothin' like big city livin', it's an experience all it own. Ev'ry city's got the same elements, but they've got their own auras. N'awlins has the air of both party central and mysticism."

"I have heard the word of God!"

The three turned to look down the line where a woman was preaching, her clothes ragged and dirty and her hair messy. Others were watching her, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. "Oh, yes! And God has said _Don' trust the po-lice_!"

The two detectives exchanged knowing looks, biting their lower lips to keep from cracking up.

"And, of course, like every other city, we have our religious nuts," Marie commented, rolling her eyes.

Dee snorted and managed to turn his chuckles into a coughing fit.

* * *

Maspero was packed, which Marie assured them was the norm. "Th' food ain't all that great, but it's better than some," she said as they sat at their table. "It's a lan'mark, ya just gotta come an' eat here." 

"Oh, Marie! _Ca va_?"

The three turned to look at their waiter, a young, scrawny white man with a greasy-looking ponytail and a stained tee shirt who was smiling at the young woman.

"I'm fine, Christophe, and not everyone at this table speaks French," she said calmly, smiling as she gently rebuked the man.

"Sorry," he said, his English accented but not as heavily as Marie's. "I just assumed, since you were with Marie. I'm Chris, by the way."

Ryo and Dee shook the young man's hand, and Marie explained how she knew the young man. "Christope's grandmother is a client of mine."

"Yeah," Chris agreed, grinning and sticking his pencil behind his ear. "Maw Maw's a big believer in voodoo. While I don't necessarily believe in what Marie does, I just know that she makes that poor ol' woman feel a lot better," he finished with a laugh.

"Pshaw, a lot of voodoo's mind over matter anyway--just like everything else," Marie added with a laugh of her own.

"Nonsense, today's on me anyway." Chris took his pencil out from behind his ear and pointed the eraser end at the two detectives. "Y'all vegetarian?"

Dee and Ryo exchanged glances before Ryo answered for both of them. "No..."

"Jewish?"

"No."

"Okay, three muffulettas and three cokes. We've got Coke, Sprite, Dr. P... What do y'all want?"

"Coke sounds fine," Dee said, and Ryo nodded in agreement.

"All righty then, it'll be out in two shakes, Yankee boys," Chris said with a grin before walking back into the kitchen to put the order in.

"Christophe's a good man, but he's not quite all there," Marie said with a grin. "Just like his Maw Maw."

"I thought you just read tarot cards," Dee said, propping his chin in his hands to look at the girl.

"I do that on occasion now," Marie replied. "I've got a lot of personal clients who have me do spells an' mix potions for 'em--mostly elderly people, the younger generations don' believe in magic and voodoo outside of movies anymore."

"But you seem to be pretty comfortable," Ryo replied and Marie grinned.

"Thanks to my clients. Most pay me in barter--I get fed for my services, most times. Tourists such as y'selves pay for tarot readings, mostly. Exotic an' all that."

"Yeah, the first time we met you we found that tarot card," Ryo replied.

"Ah, so y'all are the detectives from N'York. Didn't peg y'all for cops, honestly," she said calmly, smiling up as Chris brought them their drinks.

"How'd you know?"

"N'awlin's finest came and found me after y'all gave my sketch to 'em," Marie replied, taking a long pull from her straw. "'Cause of who I am, they think I'm good for the crimes--despite my many alibis."

"Because of who you are?" Dee echoed, the two detectives exchanging looks.

"Marie's the descendant of Marie Laveau!" Chris exclaimed, frowning at Dee and Ryo.

The two New York natives gave the young man a blank look back.

"_Tourists_," Chris muttered, walking away and shaking his head.

Marie chuckled. "My great-great-great grandmother was one of the most famous voodoo users in the area. People still go out and pray at her tomb."

"And you kept up the family practice," Ryo replied.

Marie nodded. "What people don' know scares the hell out of 'em. Which is why this case is freakin' people out.

"Th' papers ain't got nothin' about it, but everybody knows. Someone's killin' people, puttin' down tarot cards next to the body. At firs' people thought it was a vigilante, wipin' out the sinners an' such, but now they're not so sure. Word says it's voodoo killin's, got people up at night prayin' rosaries."

"_Voodoo_ _killings_?" the blonde asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

Marie looked around before leaning in closer. "I only know this 'cause the cops've questioned me three times--the bodies are us'lly found drained of blood. 'Cause of the cards, they think it's some sort of ritual."

The girl leaned back, smoothing out the folds of her skirt that were gathered on her lap. "What mos' people don' know, they make up--ya got the Church, ya got voodoo, ya got all sorts o' things others don' dare _dream_. I'm sure as cops y'all understand when I say there's a lotta stuff that's pretty damn hard to explain, either up here--" she tapped the side of her head, "--or in the natural world. So when people start showin' up with about 1/10th of the blood they're supposed to have in their body, people tend ta freak. They think vampires, usually, but... Some strange shit's been happenin' around town, too."

"What do you mean?" Dee asked, his forehead furrowing.

"N'awlins is ten feet below sea level, which is why our dead our buried above ground," Marie explained. "Someone's been goin' around at night, desecrating graves, writing stuff on 'em. An' the cops told me during one o' my interviews that some of the blood from the victims has showed up on 'em. An' the bodies go missing three days after they're laid to rest. Which makes the cops think that it's some sort of twisted religious psycho thing."

The conversation paused when Chris brought out their muffulettas, which were about four inches thick and eight inches across, perfectly round and spilling over with veggies and meat. The two detectives tried to cut it down to size--or at least in half--while Marie simply picked up the entire thing and chomped into it.

They ate in relative silence, more intent on the meal than the case, although Dee wasn't stupid. This had piqued Ryo's interest and nothing would deter him from doing a little amateur snooping around. Might as well join him so he doesn't get shot or jinxed or anything...

"There is one interesting fact about the murders that the cops never picked up on, though," Marie said, pausing before finishing her last few bites to wipe at her mouth with her napkin. "All the victims were mixed."

"Pardon?" Dee asked around a mouthful of bread and meat.

"Mixed. Mixed race. Like me, an' Ryo here, an' ya too Dee." She grinned, brushing a lock of unruly hair behind her ear. "Ev'rybody gives off their own auras. Those of mixed race give off diff'rnt ones than people who are jus' white or jus' black. It's hard ta explain if ya can't see it."

"So are you saying that people of mixed heritage are at more of a risk?" Ryo asked.

"I dunno, but I can tell ya this," Marie answered, picking up her drink to take a sip. She paused after a second, pulling the straw from her mouth. "If it is a voodoo killin'... He's usin' some of the best materials for dark magic."

* * *


	10. The Hermit

Chapter Nine: The Hermit  
Date Written: 12/25/05  
Rating: T  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7  
Notes: Wow. On a roll._  
_

* * *

_Necromancy (Latin necromantia, Greek nekromantia) is the alleged divination by which a person raises the spirits of the dead or, in some cases, merely their corpses. The word derives from the Greek nekros "dead" and manteia "divination". It has a subsidiary meaning reflected in an alternative and archaic form of the word, nigromancy, (a folk etymology using Latin niger, "black") in which the magical force of "dark powers" is gained from or by acting upon corpses. A practitioner of necromancy is a necromancer._

--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a young man who had a beautiful wife. He and his new bride loved each other very very much. 

One day, his wife died when she was still very young. This, of course, devastated her husband. However, instead of grieving for his loss, he went... a little crazy.

He became convinced that his beautiful wife had been cursed by a voodoo priestess by the name of Marie Laveau. The thought of his wife being cursed for something was maddening, and the man began practicing voodoo himself. Particularly the forbidden magic, necromancy.

The man had the talent for it, as it turned out. He quickly became one of the best voodoo practitioners, but no one knew it, save his teacher.

To the man, necromancy was a way of bringing his wife back from the grave. However, all magic comes at a high price.

The price for a life... Is a life in return.

* * *

Marie stopped on the way home to throw up her lunch. She didn't need to eat--not anymore--and only did so to keep up appearances. 

You see, Marie Laveau was the granddaughter of the original Marie Laveau. However, she told everyone that she was her great-great granddaughter to keep people from asking the very obvious question:

Why would the granddaughter of Laveau look to be close to twenty when she should be pushing seventy?

The answer was more than complicated.

* * *

_A young mulatto woman shivered apprehensively. her eyes cut up to look at her customer, a figure clad in a black pinstripe suit, a black fedora covering his eyes. The candle flickering on her small table cast faint light and sharp shadows on his face._

_His black eyes seemed to suck up what light reached it._

_She tore her gaze from his, looking down at her table. She was in the middle of a tarot card reading, her hand hovering just above the final card. Her instinct was to run, leave the reading half-done, and fuck the consequences._

_She had never seen a reading this bleak before._

_The cards told her that this customer was... evil. That he would kill to gain power._

_That he already had._

_Her hand barely touched the back of the final card, and she felt a shudder run through her arm. She swallowed thickly, but turned it over anyway._

_The Tower Card. The worst card in the entire Major Arcana._

_"Well, well, well... Looks like you lose."_

_Dark brown eyes snapped up to stare at her customer, eyes wide with fear. He grabbed her frizzy brown hair fiercely, knocking the table over. The candle gutted out on the cold stone of Jackson Square, scented wax hardening immediately. She opened her mouth to scream, but found she couldn't. He smiled and waved a gloved hand at her, and she cursed inwardly._

_There was hoodoo magic all over it. He had cursed her the moment he touched her._

_He yanked her head back, exposing her throat in the pale light of the secluded square. He leaned down, inhaling her scent and licking at her skin._

_And she couldn't even shudder. Bastard..._

_"Bonne nuit, ma petite," he whispered into her ear, reaching across her neck to slide the cool metal of a knife across her throat. He pulled it back towards him, and the blade bit into her skin._

_Warm sticky blood spilled across the murder's clothing and the cold stone. Her breathing became short and labored, the blood from her main arteries flowing down her trachea into her lungs. She was drowning, the world was getting darker..._

The next thing Marie remembered, that damn man was standing over her, wiping his blade clean and smirking at her as she slowly realized that she couldn't _feel_. She certainly saw the blood, her blood, all over the street and on her clothing, but she couldn't feel it; nor could she feel the street that she knew should be cold, or the breeze that was moving her hair and her clothing.

And she definitely couldn't feel the gold chain around her wrist, couldn't feel its coldness or its weight, but it was glinting in the light.

Marie unconsciously fingered it as she hurried home, damning the man again and again. She still remembered the horror when she recognized the symbol, a zombie spell around inlaid pieces of yellow glass, the deep engravings stained with her own blood.

Her soul was captured, trapped in a body that didn't have a heartbeat, that was moving solely on her _master's_ magic. His magic was what kept her--and him--young, but it also bound her to him. She couldn't say or do anything that he didn't want her to.

Which is why she had never broken under police interrogation. She could talk about the case, but no specifics. Like being there and watching the man kill innocents, stalking them and sucking their energy until they were empty and then taking their blood as well.

She opened the door to her house--although it was more like a shack--on the banks of Lake Pontchartrain. She wrinkled her nose against the stench she knew was there, although she couldn't smell it. Her master was such a slob--he enjoyed torturing her by leaving bloodied knives and clothing, buckets full of dark goopy blood and decomposing bodies attracting flies and maggots and insects of every kind.

"About damn time you got home," she heard him grump, and Marie frowned at the man.

"Shut up, Joe."

"Oh, temper temper!" the man chastised, grinning at her over the top of a thick tome. "How were you lover boys?"

"Fuck you."

The book shut with a loud thump, dust flying from the pages. "Marie. You're not going to talk to me like that." He crossed the room to stare her down, running a finger down her collarbone to trace the top of her shirt. "I am your master and as such I deserve respect."

"Yeah, well, I deserve to be actually _alive_, you asshole."

He backhanded her, hard, but she couldn't feel the sting on her cheek. The insult stung her pride, however.

"Marie. Stop being a bitch. For that, you're going to take a life for me tonight."

Marie winced, turning her face away. She felt sick, wishing she could throw up. Because of her mouth, someone else had to die.

"Of course..." Joe drawled, tracing lower to dip his forefinger into her cleavage. "There's always other ways for you to convince me otherwise."

Joe was a sick man. He had his fetishes, but if it meant someone else would live to see another day she'd gladly suffer them.

* * *


	11. Wheel of Fortune

Chapter Ten: Wheel of Fortune  
Date Written: 1/5/05  
Rating: T  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7  
Notes: Sorry this one's taken so long! The blurb before this is where I got the name for Joe. Big props to totally4ryo and deeryofan for help with this chapter. Girls, this one's for y'all. 

**THIS IS THE CUT VERSION OF THIS CHAPTER. IT HAS BEEN EDITED TO MEET FF.N STANDARDS. TO READ THE UNCUT VERSION PLEASE VISIT AFF.N**

* * *

_The Axeman of New Orleans was a serial killer active in New Orleans, Louisiana (and surrounding communities, including Gretna, Louisiana), from May 1918 to October 1919. Press reports during the height of public panic about the killings mentioned similar murders as early as 1911, but recent researchers have called these reports into question._

_As the killer's name implies, the victims were attacked with an axe. In some of the crimes, the doors to the victim's homes were first bashed open with the same tool. "The Axeman" was not caught or identified at the time, although his crime spree stopped as mysteriously as it started. The murderer's identity remains unknown to this day, although various possible identifications of varying plausibility have been proposed._

_Not all of the Axeman's victims died, but the savagery and utter randomness of his attacks terrorized much of the populace. Some early victims were Italian American, in particular the son of Pietro Pepitone who had killed Black Hand extortionist Paul Di Christina (Paulo Marchese) several years before, leading the newspapers to assume the killings were somehow Mafia related (similar to New York's Black Hand assassin "Shotgun Man"). However later crimes clearly did not fit this profile, and the apprehension of the general public grew. His victims included a pregnant woman and even a baby killed in the arms of its mother. The Axeman also seemed to draw direct inspiration from Jack the Ripper: he (or someone claiming to be the Axeman) wrote taunting letters to city newspapers hinting at his future crimes and claiming to be a supernatural demon "from Hell."_

_Most notoriously, on March 13, 1919, a letter purporting to be from the Axeman was published in the newspapers saying that he would kill again at 15 minutes past midnight on the night of March 19, but would spare the occupants of any place where a jazz band was playing. That night all of New Orleans's dance halls were filled to capacity, and professional and amateur bands played jazz at parties at hundreds of houses around town. There were no murders that night._

_Not everyone was intimidated by the Axeman. Some well armed citizens sent the newspaper invitations for the Axeman to visit their houses that night and see who got killed first. One invitation promised to leave a window open for the Axeman, politely asking that he not damage the front door._

_Crime writer Colin Wilson speculates the Axeman could have been Joseph Mumfre, a man shot to death in Los Angeles in 1920 by the widow of Mike Pepitone, the Axeman's last known victim. Pepitone's widow, who served only three years for the killing, claimed to recognize Mumfre as the man she saw fleeing her home the night she discovered her husband's body. Though there is no direct proof of Mumfre's guilt, Wilson notes that Mumfre was in jail during all of the Axeman's "dormant" periods (including the period from 1912-1918), and free at all times the Axeman struck._

--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

* * *

Dee was quiet as the two of them made their way back to the hotel room. Ryo knew that Marie's words were bothering his lover, but he didn't say anything yet, opting to take Dee's hand into his and squeeze it affectionately. 

Dee sat on the bed when they got back, avoiding Ryo's gaze. Ryo simply chuckled, moving around the bed to crawl up behind his lover.

Dee smiled and looked over his shoulder at Ryo as his lighter-haired lover began to trail kisses up his neck. Ryo leaned his cheek against Dee's almost absently, running his hands over his lover's shoulders. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Dee replied, brushing a kiss into Ryo's hair. "I just wasn't expecting... well, that."

"I know, baby." Ryo kissed Dee's cheek, pressing their cheeks again and rubbing their cheeks together.

Dee looked back down at his hand, running his fingers over the blue vein in his wrist. "Baby? Was it hard for you growing up?"

Ryo sighed, putting his chin on Dee's shoulder. He knew exactly where this was going. "No more than usual. I have no complaints."

"So no one picked on you for being half-Japanese?"

Ryo put one hand on Dee'schin, turning it towards him. "Dee... look at me--really look at me. Do I look Japanese?"

Dee's eyes tookin his lover's face: chestnut colored hair, pale skin, slightly oval eyes.

Dee shook his head.

"Outside of the house I was Randy, not Ryo," the other man explained. "A select few knew I was half. For the most part I was considered white, like you."

Dee looked a little sad and he touched Ryo's cheek. "But you missed out on half your heritage."

"Not really," Ryo replied with a smile. "I really wish you could have met Mom and Dad so you could have seen that I didn't miss anything." Ryo stroked the hand that he was holding with his thumb. "Elena and Rick see you as family, so in a way you're part Scottish."

Dee smiled a little at that. "And Mother's part Spanish, so I guess I'm part too."

"Exactly," Ryo agreed, taking Dee's hand from his cheek to kiss the back of it. "But whatever your birth parents are, they had a beautiful baby."

Dee chuckled as he pressed his forehead against Ryo's, remembering how Mother had hauled out the baby pictures not long after they had become lovers."

"And he grew up to be a beautiful, loving man," Ryo finished with a smile. He leaned in to brush his lips against Dee's in a feather-soft kiss. "Do you realize how exotic you are?"

"Exotic?"

"Yeah," Ryo agreed, running his fingers through Dee's thick hair. "Gorgeous jet black hair..." Ryo pressed the hand he was holding against his cheek, nuzzling the warm palm. "Soft, beautiful olive-toned skin," he continued, kissing Dee's wrist. "And those amazing deep green eyes," Ryo finished, moving around Dee to strattle his lover's lap, his fingers still tangled in Dee's hair. "You are amazingly, astoundingly gorgeous."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Dee teased, wrapping his arms around Ryo's waist to hold him in place, their lips milimeters apart.

"'s the truth," Ryo countered, feeling the nerve endings in his lips tingle with anticipation.

Neither one of them knew who moved first but soon they were kissing softly, lips gently moving against and caressing each other,their eyes closed to concentrate on one another.

Ryo moaned low in his throat when Dee's tongue slipped through his lips, the delicious taste of his lover spreading over his taste buds.

The two of them made love twice before snuggling in to sleep, Ryo cradling Dee gently in his arms. Just as they were about to fall asleep again, Dee looked up at Ryo. "Baby?"

"Hmn?" the blonde replied sleepily, running a hand over Dee's shoulders.

"Never leave me?"

Ryo opened his eyes. His lover was apparently going through an insecure phase and Ryo pressed a kiss to his lover's forehead. "Never."

"Promise?"

"Promise, Love. Promise"

* * *


	12. Justice

Chapter Eleven: Justice  
Date Written: 1/14/05  
Rating: K+  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7

* * *

_Saint Louis Cemetery is the name of three Roman Catholic cemeteries in New Orleans, Louisiana. The burials are in above ground vaults; most were constructed in the 18th century and 19th century. The above-ground tombs, required here because the ground water levels make burial impractical in New Orleans, are strongly reminiscent of the tombs of Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris. The three cemeteries are relatively intact following Hurricane Katrina._

_  
Saint Louis #1  
St. Louis Cemetery #1 is the oldest and most famous. It was opened in 1789, replacing the city's older St. Peter Cemetery (no longer in existence) as the main burial ground with a redesign of the city after a fire in 1788._

_It is 8 blocks from the Mississippi River, 1 block back from the French Quarter, bordering the housing project that was built over what was formerly Storyville. It has been in continuous use since its foundation. Due to crime risks, it is inadvisable for individual tourists to visit the cemetery on their own, but it can be safely visited with groups. Free walking tours are given by the National Park Service, and paid tours are given by various commercial enterprises._

_Marie Laveau is buried in Saint Lous Cemetery #1, in the Glapion family crypt._

_  
Saint Louis #2  
St. Louis #2 is located some 3 blocks back from St. Louis #1, bordering Claiborne Avenue. It was consecrated in 1823. A number of notable jazz and rhythm & blues musicians are buried here, including Danny Barker and Ernie K. Doe. Also entombed here is Dominique You, a notorious pirate who assisted in the defence of the city against the British in the Battle of New Orleans._

_There are also many notable citizens of 19th and 20th century New Orleans laid to rest here. For example the tomb of Blessed Mother Henriette DeLille, who is a candidate for sainthood by the Catholic church, among others. St. Louis Cemetery No. 2 New Orleans, Orleans Parish, Louisiana Founded 1824 Listed in National Register of Historic Places, 1975._

_  
Saint Louis #3  
St. Louis #3 is located some 2 miles back from the French Quarter, some 30 blocks from the Mississippi, fronting Esplanade Avenue near Bayou St. John. It opened in 1854. The crypts on average are more elaborate than at the other St. Louis cemeteries, including a number of fine 19th century marble tombs. Those entombed here include ragtime composer Paul Sarebresole and photographer E. J. Bellocq. St. Louis #3 also includes a Greek Orthodox section._  
-- from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

* * *

Ryo frowned as they leafed through the yellowing newsprint. "Most of these murders aren't even front-page news."

"You know how that is, baby," Dee replied, doing the same. "Big city, big panic. The police are probably down playing it to the press."

"But the press is usually all over stuff like this. Remember that guy who saved hands off his pets?"

"Yeah, but he had the same MO. Marie said this guy kills differently every time--except from the calling card--"

"--Which is probably being withehld from the press," Ryo finished, nodding in agreement. He paused to look at a list of names on his yellow legal pad: the list of possible murder victims.

"Well, death certificates are public record. Want to go down to City Hall?"

"Actually," Dee said, turning to look at the obituary page. "Let's start with the graveyards. Marie said the tombs were disturbed, which isn't in the paper at all."

"I understand that detail being held back, but it's almost like the press is apathetic," Ryo sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"It's amost like they're bewitched," Dee murmured in reply, taking the pen and list from Ryo to start making notations.

* * *

"Dee, there are no such thing as ghosts. There are no such thing as zombies. And there is no such thing as magic!" 

Ryo insisted, doodling idly on his legal pad. The two of them had spent the day wandering around to the cemetaries the obituaries had said the dead would be buried. Over half of the names on their list had been disturded to the affect of being torn down or dug up. Many of the groundkeepers had mentioned voodoo and restless spirits.

"Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there," Dee protested. They were currently in the backseat of a cab that smelled faintly of stale alcohol and vomit and trying to keep their feet off the carpet.

"Just because you can't see it usually means it isn't there," Ryo shot back.

"What about atoms?"

"Atoms can be seen."

"And ghosts?"

"Are the fancy of an idle brain."

"And so is magic?"

This was not a foreign concept to either of them. Ryo had never had a strong faith in God and the fragile ideal had shattered at the death of his parents. Dee, on the other hand, had a stronger belief ina more non-traditional God--one who presented changes to change to change yourself through both good and bad experiences.

Neither one of them was trying to change the other. Sometimes it was argument for argument's sake, but more often it was just a reestablishement of the ground rules. Both sides were trashed, both sides were defended and at the end of the day both sides were still respected.

"So why are you investing yourself in this case?"

"Because someone else has invested himself in the idea that murder is okay, for whatever reason. And since the law says that belief is wrong, it's my duty to stop them."

"The law says that two men shouldn't be married, or that three people can't be married."

"The law also says 'life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness'. As long as no one gets hurt--unless they want to be--it shouldn't matter. It's a law that bears looking into. Maybe changing."

The cabby slowed to a stop on St. Anne's street, and the two climbed out of the back of the cab after paying their fare.

Joe gripped his steering wheel as he glared at the two detectives as they entered their hotel. He and Marie needed to have a little heart-to-heart...


	13. The Hanged Man

Chapter Twelve: The Hanged Man  
Date Written: 1/21/06  
Rating: T  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7  
Notes: French translations are at the end of this chapter.

* * *

_Grave robbing is the act of uncovering a tomb to steal the artifacts inside or disinterring a corpse to steal the body or its effects. Someone who engages in this act is a grave robber. _

Michelangelo, the Renaissance painter and sculptor, was known for stealing bodies from morgues in order to study human anatomy to perfect his artwork.

Grave robbing is the bane of art historians and archaeologists; countless precious grave sites and tombs have been robbed before scholars were able to examine them. The Egyptian pharaoh Tutankhamun is as famous as he is not because he is one of the most significant of the pharaohs historically, but rather because he is the only pharaoh whose tomb was discovered intact, grave robbers having already pillaged the tombs of other pharaohs. Similarly, Chinese jade burial suits were believed to be myths for many years until two were finally discovered in 1968; it is now believed that most jade burial suits were long ago removed by grave robbers.  
--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

--from , the online encyclopedia

* * *

She could hear him--death hadn't diminished that sense at least. His footsteps were coming up the front walk, the bottoms of his shoes clicking calmly on the pavement. 

He was always worse when he was calm. He was like a force of nature then, destructive, merciless, and terrifying.

The front door shattered, rotted wood flying in hundreds of little pieces. Splinters stuck in the corpses closest to the door, fine wood dust covering the others that were on the other side of the room.

"MARIE! _TA CHIENNE_!"

He was approaching her door. She was trying hard to cover up her altar, to put away all of her things before he came in and caught her again.

There was a pounding on the door. "You bitch, don't you use magic on me! ON ME!"

If she had the bodily fluids she would cry, paniced and scared. Now she wasn't afraid of any bodily harm he could do to her, so she was calm and meticulous, gathering up her trinkets and other odds and ends.

With a sickening crunch, Joe's foot penetrated the decaying wood door, the man getting stuck in his door up to his knee. She could hear him grunt as he pulled it back through the door. She finally managed to shove all of her things underneath her bed as the door was blasted to smithereens, a very angry Joe storming in.

He lifted her from her kneeling position to her feet by her hair and slapped her across her cheek hard. "Whore!" Joe accused before in her face.

Marie didn't even flinch.

"Ooh... getting some balls, eh?" The smile that crossed Joe's features made Marie shiver from the sheer madness and evil oozing out of the crooked quirk of lips. "You gave some COPS a LEAD!"

"You never said I couldn't give them leads, just not tell them the whole truth," Marie replied, which earned her another slap. Normally by now her face would be swollen, but the blood vessels were empty.

"For that, you're going to be the one to kill them," Joe commanded, the grin widening. "The Yankee scum"

* * *

There were few things creepier than a cemetary at night, Marie thought. Her master being at the top of the list, of course. 

But with all the unrest and necromancy use by Joe, the dead were uneasy. If she had eaten anything in the past day she would have thrown it up, the spirits doing what feeble little they could to stop the two voodoo practicioners from disturbing what should be an eternal rest.

Joe, however, was loving the chaos. He was near to skipping along between the vaults, a bag for body parts thrown over his shoulder. He looked like a young, insane _Pere Noel_, one who brought death instead of joy.

"Aah, here we go."

The necromancer came to a stop in front of an unusually old vault--normally, Joe went for younger, fresher bodies for his zombie crewe. The tomb was made of white marble, the name "Beaumont" chiseled into the dirt-streaked stone as ivy and other climbing plants made their slow ascent over the roof. Joe easily broke a hole in the wall near where a plant had weakened the stone wall before climbing into the vault.

Marie sighed, shivering a bit as she looked around. This was undoubtedly the part she hated worst in this whole exercise. Everyone had to die eventually--after death, they should just rest. _C'est fini_. The remains of a person should never be used as the plaything of another.

Respect for the dead was a precious thing. In her many years she had heard of many different cultures and their funerary rites, which ranged from the ancient art of her ancestors, mummification, to the preservation of the dead until a proper funeral could be afforded to even the ingestion of the dead person's flesh (how disgusting was that... she'd rather die than break open her mama and grandma's tombs and eat them). However, that was respect to the dead.

This... this was just desecration.

"_Ah, Mademoiselle, pour moi? Merci, cherie, merci..._"

She could hear Joe humming in the tomb, having way too much fun. He was probably robbing the body of its jewelry, too. Many of his charms were melted down remains of jewelry the dead were buried with.

Voices were approaching. She panicked, throwing her jacket over the hole and rounding to the front. She could make out the voices and her eyes widened in surprise. She quickly sank to her knees, making as if she was praying.

"Marie!"

"Dee, quiet."

Marie moved a hand in a random motion, knowing that her new acquaintances wouldn't realize that it was bullshit. She stood and smiled at them, hoping they wouldn't notice that she was sweating profusely. "What're y'all out here?" she asked, slipping into the foreign over-the-top Southern slang.

"Following up on that lead you gave us," the blonde detective said with a smile. "Are you blessing this grave?"

"Yep. Jus' finished up."

"Well, we were going to turn in, care to join us for dinner?" Dee asked, and Ryo nodded, smiling.

"Aw, you boys are jus' too damn good ta me"

* * *

Inside the tomb, Joe was giggling like a madman, singing as he ran his fingers over the yellowed bones. 

"_Alowetta, gentil alowetta  
alowetta..._"

Slim fingers wrapped around a bone, bending it harshly and shattering the bone.

"_Je suis plumerer..._"

* * *

**Translations:**

_Ta chienne_: "You bitch!"

_Pere Noel_: Father Christmas, or Santa

"_Ah, Mademoiselle, pour moi? Merci, cherie, merci_": Oh, Miss, for me? Thank you, dear, thank you."

Song: "Little birdy pretty little birdy, little birdy, I will pluck you." It's a song used to teach children about body parts. And I'm not sure if it's spelled right or not, so if it's wrong, I'm sorry!


	14. Death

Chapter Thirteen: Death  
Date Written: 1/24/05  
Rating: T  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7  
Notes: I have been waiting to do this chapter for a while now. The end is near, guys.

* * *

_A ghost is an alleged non-corporeal manifestation of a dead person (or, rarely, an animal). It is often thought to be the spirit or soul of a person who has remained on Earth after death. According to some beliefs, a ghost may be the personality of a person after his or her death, and not tied directly to the soul or spirit. Every culture in the world carries stories about ghosts, but they vary across time and place, with disagreements both as to what ghosts are and whether they are just figments of imagination or a part of reality._

_The city of New Orleans is sometimes called 'America's most haunted city' with numerous ghost reports, especially in the French Quarter which remained largely undamaged by Hurricane Katrina. New Orleans' ghosts include pirates from the 18th century, through 20th century specters._

--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

* * *

My name is Jessica--well, it used to be. My mistress' master has renamed me since then--'Jennifer'. 

Nothing against my new name, but I'm _not_ Jennifer. I'm Jessica.

My mistress still calls me Jessica--out of earshot of Joe, that is. We may be zombies, but we still have emotions. The heart didn't die with our bodies.

Maybe I should back up and start at the beginning.

I used to be an accountant for a business in New Orleans, although I'm originally from Chicago. My mother was Mexican and I inherited her long black hair and slightly dark skin and my white father's bright blue eyes and crooked smile. I grew up bilingual and moved to Houston for work after college. The main company in Texas transfered me to New Orleans, which has a burgeoning Latino community as well as natural Spanish Creole roots.

I had only been in the city for a few weeks--I hadn't made any friends as of yet. I'm naturally quiet and shy--something I also inherited from my father--so I was lonely, but content.

Until that night. The worst night of my life.

As it turned out, it was the last, too. The first day of my descent into Hell.

It was... strange, the attack. I was ambushed from behind, my mouth covered with duct tape so I couldn't scream. Joe grabbed me from behind, holding my arm out while Marie--oh my mistress!--cut my arm. The blade _hurt _as it bit into my skin, and the blood was cool as it trickled down my elbow, tinking into the metal pail she held.

Marie apologized the entire time I bled, my strength flowed from my body along with my blood. I could hear mosquitoes buzzing around my ear, could see them landing on my arm to feast on the fresh blood. Joe cursed both of us when I collapsed back into his arms. He threw my limp body at Marie, who caught me and stroked my hair as I slid into darkness.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of people talking. I was sitting propped up against a wall, and I could hear the mosquitoes buzzing around my ears, but I couldn't feel them biting me. 

The not feeling was the scariest part. It probably was about that time that I knew I was dead.

I was shocked at the way the police reacted to my body--a few cracking jokes among each other. Afterwards, long afterwards, I came to realize that they had become used to seeing the dead, insulated to hiding the pain and anguish most feel at a crime scene.

I can't really blame them. I've become the same.

I followed by body instead of going to my parents' side. I hate to see them upset, and I already sorta knew how they'd react: Mom would break down and sob over the phone or fling her arms around the officer if they sent someone to the apartment. Dad would curse and storm around, blaming himself.

Instead, I went and watched my autopsy.

Have you ever sat and watched something happen, knowing you couldn't do a damn thing to stop them? An autopsy is kinda like that. All I could do was sit and watch as the forensic scientist cut my body open, my flesh parting easily under the scalpel as it had under Joe's knife. The only difference was that this time, there was no blood, no writhing or screaming on my part, no bone-rattling pain.

I watched with a morbid fascination as the pretty female doctor lifted my organs from my body and measured them, feeling a slight twinge of guilt. I had always been registered as an organ donor, but my body was long dead, the organs rendered useless.

Eventually, I was sewn back up--although the coolest part was watching her cut open my skull and weigh my brain--and shipped to a funeral home.

Attending your own funeral is a strange affair. I was dressed rather prettily, in one of my favorite outfits. The make-up looked heavy on my skin, and I never realized how old I really looked. It might have been that it was because my face was sunken, the skin already losing water.

My funeral was surprisingly full. My family and friends came in from Illinois, and a few of my coworkers came as well. It was actually quite touching.

* * *

My parents planned to bury me in Chicago. 

Joe got to me first.

He and Marie broke into the funeral home and stole my casket. The helplessness I felt was overwhelming, worse than it was when I was being cut up--they could _see me_. Marie was talking to me.

After that, everything got a little fuzzy. Marie later told me that it was because the necromancy ceremony took a lot of spirital energy from me. Apparently, everyone has a certain amount of spiritual energy in their blood, but only those with a higher concentration of it can unlock that potential magic.

Joe used the magic in my blood to turn my body into a puppet and my blood to be used in something equally unholy.

There is one little loophole Joe happened to overlook--since Marie was the one who preformed the ceremony, Marie is my mistress.

I don't _have_ to take orders from Joe.


	15. Temperance

Chapter Fourteen: Temperance  
Date Written: 2/2/06  
Rating: T  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7  
Notes: This was an adult 'fanservice' chapter, which has been drastically cut back. A clean version of this will be up on FF.N, the uncut versions on my livejournal and AFF.N 

And once again, major props to DRF and Gena. Love you ladies!

* * *

_A gay bar is a drinking establishment which caters primarily to a gay or lesbian clientele. It may often be called a gay club or pub, and occasionally queer bar, lesbian bar, dyke bar, or boy bar. They include gay nightclubs, entertainment venues which usually do their primary business after dark. Gay bars range in size from the tiny, five-seat bars of Tokyo to large, multi-story "super clubs" with several distinct areas and often more than one dance floor. A large venue may be referred to as a nightclub, club, or bar, while smaller venues are typically called bars and sometimes pubs._

--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

* * *

Dee groaned as he felt something stirring next to him. He opened one jade green eye to find his lover snuggling deeper into his embrace, the blonde fast asleep.

Dee lifted his head up far enough to peer at the bedside clock, which proudly announced the time to be 4:23 am.

Ryo stirred just a little at the slight motion Dee made, his eyes still closed, dreaming.

Dee carefully moved so he was spooned up behind Ryo, holding him close to his body. He pressed a few gentle kisses along the back of Ryo's neck.

In his sleep, the older man moaned. Dee grinned, his white teeth flashing briefly in the dim light before he gently bit the juncture of Ryo's shoulder, tonguing the exposed skin.

Ryo squirmed in Dee's arms, panting. And still he slept on.

It was a little game between them--both detectives, as it turned out, could be very heavy sleepers. They enjoyed trying to awaken the other, seeing how far they could take the level of arousal until the other woke up.

One hand slipped under Ryo's tee--which was actually Dee's shirt--and tobacco-stained fingers gently teased one dusky pink nipple to hardness. Since his hand was on Ryo's chest, he could feel the blonde's heartbeat under his fingers, quickening as pleasure thrummed through his veins.

Ryo awoke with Dee's hands on his stomach, Dee's mouth on his neck and his lover's erection prodding his rear. He groaned low in his throat, pushing back against Dee's hips to let the dark-haired man know he was finally awake before turning his head for a gentle kiss.

Both of them were half-asleep so they unhurriedly touched and caressed one another, enjoying the slow build-up of pleasure instead of the usual headlong rush towards orgasm. Ryo loved the drag of Dee's callused hands over his skin, the taste and feel of Dee's tongue slipping and sliding into his mouth. He obediently let Dee strip his sleep clothing off his body and watched with rapt attention as his lover climbed out of bed to remove his own clothing and snag the bottle of lube.

"You're in a good mood so early this morning," Ryo teased as Dee climbed back into bed, spooning up behind the blonde again

"You wearing my clothing drives me wild," Dee growled back into Ryo's ear, licking it wetly.

Ryo looked over his shoulder and gave Dee a sleepy grin. "Why do you think I wear it then?"

Dee smiled back, leaning in for a kiss. The edge of sleep had worn down a bit, and the kiss was a bit more passionate than the others, tongues twining around one another.

They made love while still in the fuzzy state of half-awake. Afterwards, The two of them fell back asleep in each other's arms, all sticky from and not caring, just enjoying the feel of a lover's warmth.

* * *

Sunrise found Dee and Ryo making love again, slow and gentle. Afterwards, they spent most of the morning wrapped in each other's arms and just indulging in the pillow talk that only old, good lovers can appreciate and enjoy as well as the silliness that accompanies the ease of being with someone who loves you for who you are. 

Around eleven they got hungry enough to order room service, both firmly set on staying in bed all day if necessary. They watched a bit of television as they ate and talked, firmly avoiding the news and dozing off from time to time. The day progressed and Dee decided to broach a subject he had been contemplating for a while.

"Hey, baby? Wanna go out tonight?"

"Sure," Ryo smiled back, propping up on his elbows. "Any ideas, or do you just want to wander around Bourbon Street again?"

"Actually, I was thinking we could go to a club?" Dee answered hesitantly, running a hand up and down Ryo's bare back.

"Sounds fun," Ryo replied. "What time do you wanna go out?"

Dee was slightly surprised by the ease Ryo agreed with his idea--getting him to go out at home was like pulling teeth--but he jumped on the chance. Green eyes rolled over to look at the bedside clock. "Well... if we leave in about two hours we can probably beat the dinner crowds."

Theyclimbed out of bed and started getting ready to go out, Ryo hunting through his suitcase for something to wear and Dee ambling to the bathroom to start washing up. He started by brushing his teeth, dressed in just a pair of dark blue boxers.

Ryo paused in his search to admire the view his lover was giving him: Dee was hunched over, leaning over the sink. One hand was resting on the porcelain basin, and Dee's hips were swaying with some rhythm playing only in his head. For some reason, the blonde found this sight both adorable and sexy, and he slipped into the bathroom behind Dee, watching the shifting muscles underneath his lover's tan skin as Dee moved.

He waited until Dee had spit into the sink and rinsed his mouth out with a handful of tapwater before grabbing Dee around the waist and grinding himself against the round ass hidden by the boxers.

Dee's head snapped up, surprised at Ryo's sudden movement, but grinned at his lover's flushed refelction in the mirror and moved back against his lover. "You're in a mood tonight," he teased, standing straighter so he could turn his face for a kiss.

"Aah. The question is, though, are you?" Ryo asked, his hands sliding around Dee's front to brush teasing strokes against the skin of Dee's lower belly.

"When it comes to you baby, I'm always in the mood," Dee replied, leaning back against Ryo as the blonde kissed down his neck and shoulders.

* * *

They caught their breath as they washed up after having sex in the shower, wiping themselves down with soapy washcloths before finally getting out. They dried off unhurriedly, sharing lazy kisses before tumbling back between the sheets, still slightly damp. 

Dee put his chin on the top of Ryo's head. "How come you always feel so God damn perfect?"

Ryo turned his face up for a kiss. "Because I love you that much," he replied, a satisfied smile on his face.

In response, Dee arched an eyebrow, his face a study of internal thought. "Nope. How much you love me has nothing to do with your amazing body."

"Oh?" Ryo teased back, closing his eyes as he felt Dee's lips brush his nose. "I was made for you. Only you."

"Just me?"

Dee's grin softened when Ryo's onyx eyes opened, complete seriousness shining back in his eyes. "Yeah, just you. There's no one else I want."

"There's no one else I want either," Dee replied, nosing the honey blonde strands as he ran his hands up and down Ryo's sides and hips. "But it's a damn shame to waste all of this on little old me."

"Is that the go-ahead to go sleep with others?" Ryo teased, nuzzling Dee's neck back.

The taller detective's laugh made Ryo's nose tickle a bit. "Hell no. You know how possessive I am." A soft kiss was planted against the part of Ryo's damp hair. "You're just too good for me."

"Sometimes I feel the same way," Ryo confessed, pulling back to look up at Dee. "But most of the time I think we're just perfect for each other."

Dee leaned down and rubbed Ryo's nose with his. "Jesus, that was sappy," he said, effectively breaking the mood and making Ryo laugh. It was just Dee--a defense mechanism deeply ingrained into him after years and years by himself. The fact that he fell back on an old trick told Ryo just how much his words had affected his lover. "Have you been watching chick flicks again?"

Ryo rolled his eyes. One time, Dee had caught him watching _Sense and Sensibility_ on HBO, and he'd never heard the end of it. "Nah... KISS. _I Was Meant For Loving You_... _Let's Put the X in Sex_..." He grinned up wickedly at Dee. "_UH... All Night_," he teased, grinding his hips against Dee's.

Dee laughed aloud. "Y'know, I never, ever pegged you for a KISS fan when we first met."

"Oh, I have my secrets still," Ryo teased, stopping in his point when Dee pressed their lips together. "I need to keep you guessing so you don't get bored with me."

"Oh, Baby, I could never get bored with you," Dee replied.

The two of them cuddled for a while more, falling into silence as they kissed and caressed one another. "Hey, Dee... I thought of another hair band."

"Oh?"

"Posion. _Talk Dirty to Me_."

Dee scoffed. "Too easy. Although, if you want me to, I will."

"Really? Such as...?"

Dee grinned and rolled over onto Ryo, pinning his older lover back onto the mattress and whispering naughtily into his ear.

Ryo gasped at the velvet sound of Dee's voice in his ear, the offensive words arousing. His fingers dug into the muscles of Dee's back. "But I'm yours..." he moaned without thinking, a faint flush of arousal crossing his cheeks.

"Mmm, yeah, you are. All mine to be as kinky as you want," Dee agreed, sucking the top of Ryo's earlobe into his mouth, tonguing the cartilage mold.

"Yes," Ryo groaned, getting swept up in the developing fantasy, his voice breathy.

Dee grinned against Ryo's neck, nibbling on the pale flesh. "And as much as I love thinking about this... If we don't get dressed, we're never going to get anywhere before the lines get monsterous," he informed the blonde, rolling off of him and out of their bed, smacking Ryo's ass playfully as he started getting dressed.

Ryo stared back at Dee, his mind in a haze. "HEY! You bastard!"

Dee laughed aloud, pulling on a pair of boxers and his undershirt.

Ryo threw a pillow at Dee, pouting at the dirty trick.

Dee chuckled and slid under the sheets with Ryo again.

* * *

"You want something to drink?" Dee asked Ryo, having to talk loud over the music. 

"Sure," came the reply, accompanied with a nod. They sat at the bar, drinking while they watched the other couples dancing in the club. Both men and women were bumping and grinding on the darkened dance floor, most in various states of undress. A slower song blared over the speakers, and Ryo leaned in to Dee. "I love this song. Wanna dance?"

"Sure," Dee replied, finishing his drink before walking out to the dance floor with Ryo. The two pulled each other close, Ryo's arms going up to loop around Dee's neck and remembering that not too long ago he wouldn't have been brave enough to do something like this in public. Dee, thinking the same thing, was humming along with the music in Ryo's ear.

"You're brave tonight, Love," Dee commented after a few moments, smiling down at Ryo.

Ryo chuckled. "I was thinking along the same lines. It's not so much that I'm brave per se, but I'm..."

The blonde trailed off, thinking of a way to phrase it, and Dee smiled, pressing a kiss against his forehead. "You seem very sure of yourself."

"Well... Part of being in a family unit is the self-awareness of shaming the family name," Ryo explained. "Not that I've ever been ashamed of you, or us, that is."

Dee smiled down. "I know. You've been worried about how your mother's familiy would react."

"Yeah..."

"And now?"

Ryo was quiet for a moment. "Being here, away from everyone else, we can just be ourselves, and I like it. I don't know what's getting into me down here, but I want to take it back home."

Dee smiled back down at Ryo. "Are you sure you're ready? I don't want you to do anything you're not ready for."

"This is long overdue," Ryo replied, smiling back.

They leaned in for what was supposed to be a tender kiss, but the song shifted yet again. The faster beat somehow got into their blood, turning the kiss into something fiery and hard to contain. By the time they broke for air, they were frantically clinging to one another as if they were drowning.

Ryo grabbed Dee by the hand and bodily pulled him into the bathroom.


	16. The Devil

Chapter Fifteen: The Devil  
Date Written: 2/22/06  
Rating: T  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent, or rape) and the issues that go with it. **FOR THIS CHAPTER: TAKE YOUR INSULIN SHOTS NOW, PEOPLE. SO MUCH SAP.**  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero Spoilers: All the way up through book 7 Notes: All. Gena's. Fault. All her fault! The idea, the sap, all her. : points : ALL GENA! 

Also, I have never gone on one of these paddleboat things, so I'm taking creative license. You have been warned.

* * *

_When night falls, the Paddlewheeler Creole Queen or Riverboat Cajun Queen rises to the occasion. Step on board and cruise with us into the night where the sleepless activity of America's busiest port buzzes. The sounds of a lively jazz band fill the air as you enjoy a lavish Creole buffet in elegantly appointed dining rooms._

_After dinner, enjoy your favorite cocktails and sweet river breezes on the promenade deck as the city skyline slips by under a canopy of stars. This Dinner Jazz Cruise is pure New Orleans, pure pleasure!_

_Both vessels feature outer decks with authentically patterned wrought iron trims inviting guests to stroll back in time as they settle into the mood of a bygone era. The interiors are richly appointed with plush Victorian style draperies, soft period lighting, wooden parquet dance floors, and Louisiana Cypress bars accented with brass railing for a warm and welcoming setting._

_Journey with us by boat, Cajun-style, for a 1 hour 45 minute tour through the heart of Southern Louisiana's swamplands. Experience real-life adventure for the whole family from the comfort of our swamp boats. Tour back into our privately owned meandering bayous and take a look into the past. View moss draped cypress trees, fascinating plant life and the creatures who make their homes here._

_Your Cajun guide is a native of the area who will share with you the legends and lore of Louisiana's still untamed wilderness._

_Our Coast Guard Certified swamp boats can accommodate up to 250 passengers when all of our tour boats are in use. Each boat has restroom facilities. School groups are welcome and a picnic area is available for the children to bring a bag lunch._

_Bring your camera and capture wildlife at any time! Alligators, snakes, egrets, white-tailed deer, mink and nutria all make their home here in the Louisiana swamplands.  
_

--from neworeleanspaddlewheels-dot-com

* * *

Ryo smiled across the table at his lover. "We're lucky they had a table open." 

Dee smiled back. "Yeah, we were."

The two of them were currently dressed in suits and ties, smiling at one another across a small table. The faint sway back and forth of the paddleboat they were on made the candlelight coming from a hurricane lamp in the middle of the table flicker a bit, but the glass stayed still. Sultry jazz music floated on the air, mingling with the conversation of the small group of people.

When they had gotten up that morning, Dee and Ryo had decided to venture into the tourist bureau that they had passed in the Quarter every morning when traveling to Cafe du Monde's. They had met some particularly nice ladies, who had smiled when the two lovers had said they were from out of town and immediately recommended some 'local flavor' tours. With some hurried typing and a few phone calls, they had managed to land a table on the nighttime paddleboat jazz tour later that day. They had boarded the boat as the sun was sinking, and the New Orleans skyline had faded behind them long ago.

Ryo smiled, eying his partner appreciatively. "You should keep your suit on more at work."

"You don't think I look overdressed?" he asked, looking around. They were the only two in fine suits (the ones that Dee called "court day" suits), but everyone was more or less dressed up--ladies in skirts or dresses and men in nice shirts and slacks.

"No, I think you look really good. I should talk you into this more often," the blonde teased back, sipping from his wine glass.

Dee chuckled ruefully. "This frickin' tie is buggin' the crap outta me," he commented, reaching up to tug gently on the knot. He sighed as it loosened a little, a small space of throat appearing. "I don't have the patience or your suave sophistication to wear a suit all day. I'm just a street rat in a suit."

Ryo reached over to put a hand over Dee's. He looked at their contrasting skin colors--his paleness stark against Dee's olive tone--and stroked his thumb over the toughened skin on the back of his lover's hand. "You look damn fine in that suit. And street rat or no, I wouldn't have you any other way."

Ryo lifted Dee's hand to press a kiss against his skin, and Dee moved his chair around to sit closer to his lover. He put an arm around the back of Ryo's chair, wanting him close.

Ryo laced their fingers together, watching the blending shades of flesh contrast and compliment each other. "I'm sorry," he finally murmured, his gaze drawn to their hands.

Dee leaned in, frowning. "For what?"

"For not doing this sooner. About us, I mean."

Dee smiled. "Don't be, Baby."

"I've been so stupid," Ryo continued, stroking the skin of Dee's hand and wrist.

"Well, we all have our moments," Dee teased with a chuckle, kissing Ryo's temple. "It was the past; let's just concentrate on the here and now. But what I'd like to do right now is take a walk on the outside deck, hand in hand. How does that sound?"

Ryo, in turn, shook his head. "I prefer your arm around me, actually.

Dee smiled back. "How stupid of me. Why settle for your hand when I can have you in my arms"

* * *

The outer deck had mosquito netting around the hallway, giving it an old-time feeling. Ryo's arm was around Dee's waist and his arm was around the blonde's shoulders and Dee thought he had died and gone to Heaven. 

A few straight couples had glared at them when they crossed the room, but Ryo--and oh, Dee was so proud of him!--had just ignored them, smiling up at Dee as if only he existed.

The moonlight was only slightly disrupted by the mosquito net, and Dee smiled. "Nice moon tonight."

Ryo nodded in agreement, leaning in for a kiss. Dee chuckled against Ryo's lips and grinned when questioning onyx eyes looked up at him. "I'm gonna have to get used to this, but I'm really going to enjoy taking this back home."

"I'm sure you will, since I have the plane tickets," Ryo teased back, laying his head on Dee's shoulder.

Dee's laughter echoed down the polished wood corridors. "Will you take me back?" he asked, leaning in close.

Ryo leaned up to rub noses with Dee. "Don't ask silly questions, Love."

"Even if I do something totally, completely embarassing? Will you still take me back?"

"Of course!" Ryo automatically replied. "Always. Forever."

"Glad to hear that," Dee said, kissing Ryo's nose. "'Cause that's the way I feel too."

They stood in silence for a bit, listening to the jazz music until Dee looked down at Ryo. "Want to dance?"

Ryo smiled back up, onyx eyes smiling. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

They fell into a slow rhythm, one of Ryo's arms around Dee's neck, one of Dee's arms around Ryo's waist as they held hands and danced slowly. Dee leaned down, kissing Ryo's neck. "Don't tell anyone I can dance like this."

"Just as long as you promise we can do it again," Ryo replied, laying his head on Dee's shoulder.

"As much as you like," Dee promised, a slow smile spreading on his face. "I knew those classes Mother made me take had to come in handy for something."

"Mmm... Remind me to thank her when we get back," Ryo replied.

They continued to slowly dance to the music, pulling each other closer and sharing lazy kisses as they slowly spun. Ryo sighed and rested his head on Dee's shoulder, smiling happily.

"Love you," Dee murmured, pressing kisses against Ryo's ear.

"I love you too, Dee. More than anything," came the reply.

Ryo leaned up for a soft kiss, merely a gentle brush of his lips against Dee's, and the dark-haired detective smiled. "Yeah, definately gonna take some time to get used to this."

Ryo chuckled, nuzzling Dee's neck. "Take as long as you want, Dee. You waited for me, it's only fair I wait for you."

They danced through a few more slow, jazzy tunes, not saying anything but just enjoying being wrapped in each other's arms. However, soon the buffet was brought out and the scent of rice, crawfish and spices drifted outside, wrapping around them like a blanket.

"Don' wanna leave..." Dee complained, even as his stomach complained of hunger.

"Well, we'd better feed you otherwise you won't have any more energy to dance," Ryo countered, smiling. "How about we go eat and then come back?"

"Brilliant plan," Dee agreed.

They walked back into the dining area hand in hand, standing at the end of the line. When they reached the steaming silver trays loaded with food, Ryo--who was in front of Dee--immediately started ladling whatever looked good onto Dee's plate.

"Woah there, Babe," Dee cautioned as a spoonful of crawfish jambalaya made its way onto the white china he was holding, "I want to taste everything, but I'm not strong enough to carry a mountain."

Ryo looked at his lover's almost full plate and down at his near-empty one. "Sorry?"

Dee laughed. "No you're not. Get what I don't have and we'll share."

They made their way back to their table and ate bites off of each other's plates, enjoying the foreign flavor of the Cajun cooking. Most couples were doing the same, but the table behind them--a group of four--was muttering just loud enough to be heard.

"Ohmigod, look at that!"

"That's just so wrong, they should be ashamed of themselves."

"Now, now, they're going to go to Hell anyway, we should feel sorry for them."

"Maybe if we pray Jesus will help them?"

"Excuse me, Love," Ryo said to Dee after he swallowed the bite of red beans and rice, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He turned around, giving his best "Don't Screw With Me" glare (one that always made junkies wither in Interrogation) and said, "One, grow up. Two, _Judge not lest ye be judged_."

The party got up and moved to a vacant table across the room.

Dee, his emerald eyes wide, grinned at his blonde lover. "_Turn the other cheek_ is also a phrase, Dear," he teased.

Ryo's dark eyes glittered with amusement and self-pride. "I did. They were talking to my ass, so I turned and let them have a chance to talk to my face."

"I am so proud of you," Dee chuckled, leaning in to give Ryo a kiss, which was happily returned.

"You'd better," Ryo joked. "I almost told them to fuck off."

"Now, now, I'm the only one allowed to pull stunts like that."

"I know," Ryo replied easily, straightening Dee's tie. "One of us has to be civilized."

"Exactaly. And you can pull it off better than me."

Ryo squeezed Dee's hand, smiling as he reached for his wine glass.

"Hey Ryo? I've been thinking..."

"Oh?"

"Dangerous prospect, huh?"

"Always." Ryo kissed the back of Dee's hand. "What is it?"

Dee suddenly found that he couldn't meet Ryo's gaze. "Well, you've put up for so long doing things I like to do, while I grumble and gripe the few times we do something you like. I want to change that too."

Ryo smiled at the crown of Dee's head. "I complain about stuff you want to do too."

"Not as much as I do, Ryo. It's all about the image and I'm ashamed of it now."

"Dee, it's okay."

"No, it's not. I always said I didn't care what people thought about me, but then cringe if Ted or Drake should ever find out I actually liked going to a museum or something." He chuckled ruefully, running his thumb over Ryo's knuckles. "I've been pretty stupid myself. I can't promise I'll really enjoy everything as much as you would, but I can keep my mouth shut and try it. Hell, I'll be with you anyway. And that's always enjoyable to me. It doesn't matter what we do."

He looked up to see Ryo's brilliant smile. "Hey Love? Remember that part you said earlier about forgetting the past?"

Dee nodded, stroking Ryo's cheek with his free hand.

"Let's just put that behind us. We can't change the past."

Dee grinned, taking his wine glass. "How about a toast, then?" he suggested, smiling. "To new beginnings."

Ryo smiled, clinking his glass against Dee's. "New beginnings with old friends."

Dee, in the spur of the moment, looped his right arm around Ryo's, making them drink wedding-style. The sudden silent suggestion made Ryo's smile soften, and when they put their glasses down he pressed his forehead against Dee's.

"Love you," he murmured, kissing Dee's nose.

Dee, in turn, closed his eyes, sighing in happiness. Without thinking, and so quiet Ryo almost didn't catch it, the dark-haired man murmured, "Marry me..."

Ryo's eyes went wide. "W-what?"

Dee, as always when it came to anything really important, suddenly became very flustered, but continued his train of thought as best he could before it completely derailed. "It's just... I don't see anyone but you in my life. Forever. And I hope that you don't see anyone but me. And I was just thinking..." He paused to push a hand to his face, cursing, "Damn, this is not how I wanted it to go, I always imagined I'd have a ring in my hand right now."

Ryo was dumbstruck. He couldn't do or say anything, just stare at Dee in disbelief.

Dee mistook the look for confusion and attempted to explain. "If we're going to stand up to everyone together about our love, then why don't we... well, make it legal. It won't be exactly legal, but you know... Damn, this is going wrong."

Ryo tried to talk, but found that he couldn't say anything. Dee took the silence for a 'no' and chuckled ruefully to himself. "It was just another one of my silly ideas..." he started, trying to laugh it off but was cut short when Ryo pulled him in for a deep kiss. The dark-haired man was surprised by the sudden movement, but quickly moved to kiss him back.

"Dee, do you have any idea how happy you just made me?" Ryo asked. "Of course I feel the same, silly. I love you, more than anything

"So, does this mean yes?" Dee asked, smiling. He thought he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it to be sure.

"Of course!" Ryo replied, tears glittering in the corners of his eyes. Dee cupped his face and rubbed calloused thumbs over his eyes, wiping them away. "Yes, yes," he murmured between little kisses, smiling back at Dee.

Dee wrapped his arms around Ryo, burying his face in the blonde mop of hair. "Oh, God, Ryo, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Dee," the older detective murmured into his lover's neck.

Dee smiled a little to himself. "I really wish I had a ring for you," he said, rubbing Ryo's back.

"I don't care, Dee. Just hearing you say those words is enough for me," Ryo replied, sniffling a little bit.

Dee's hand moved up to stroke Ryo's hair soothingly. "Then I'll say them over and over if you want me to."

Ryo lifted his head, his smile watery. "And I'll still say yes every time. I've known I never want anyone else in my life but you. But now... I want to take those vows in front of our friends."

Dee smiled back, kissing his lover, then paused for a moment. "You know... I think I'm doing this the wrong way."

"Huh?"

Dee let go of him, pushed away from the table and then knelt in front of him. "Ryo, will you marry me?" he asked loud enough for everyone to stop what they were doing and turn to look at them.

Ryo paused for only a moment before throwing his arms around Dee's neck. "Yes! Yes, Dee, I'll marry you!"

Dee pulled him into another kiss, both of them secretly proud that there was more applause than murmurs. The music started up again, and the couple stood to dance, not caring that people were staring.

"Tomorrow, let's go to the Quarter and get you a ring," Dee said, pressing his lips against Ryo's forehead. "Since I don't have one for you now."

"Dee, you could tie a shoestring around my finger and I wouldn't care." The blonde smiled up at his lover. "But I would like to have matching rings," he said teasingly.

The taller detective laughed, but the sound was muffled by a huge crash coming from the kitchen. All the people in the dining room turned to stare at the kitchen, where loud voices were coming from.

"Maybe someone dropped a tray?" Ryo suggested, looking up at Dee and shrugging.

* * *

In the kitchen, Joe cursed inwardly, staring at the tray he had upset in his anger. His two main prospects were tangling into each other's aura so much it was sickening, tainting the power they could create with the most asinine of all emotions--love. 

How could they even think about _loving_? It was nothing like his love for _her_. It didn't even come close.

Suddenly, the thought crossed his mind. If they could create such a bond, just imagine what it would create when he ripped it apart...

It was time to move into the next phase.


	17. The Tower

Chapter Sixteen: The Tower  
Date Written: 5/2/06  
Rating: T  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent, or rape) and the issues that go with it.  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7  
Notes: Finally, huh?

* * *

_Aquarium of the Americas is a renowned aquarium in New Orleans, Louisiana, USA._

_It is recognized as one of the leading aquariums in the United States, Aquarium of the Americas is run by the Audubon Institute (which also supervises Audubon Zoo and Audubon Park in New Orleans, in a different part of the city). The Aquarium located along the banks of the Mississippi River by the edge of the historic French Quarter off Canal Street. The Aquarium opened in 1990._

_With 10,000 animals representing 530 species, exhibits include the Mississippi River gallery featuring catfish, paddlefish and alligators; a Caribbean reef exhibit featuring a clear, 30-foot-long tunnel surrounded by aquatic creatures; and a Gulf of Mexico exhibit featuring sharks, sea turtles and stingrays._

_The Aquarium of the Americas also hosts an IMAX theater._

_In 2005, the facilities were affected by Hurricane Katrina. Though the structure survived the initial hurricane and was on high ground above the subsequent flooding of most of the city, electricity outages continued and the backup power generators were unable to fully operate the sophisticated life support systems needed to keep the animals alive. Aquarium staffers were forced to evacuate the facility due to civil unrest in the area only to return four days later to discover that most of the 10,000 fish did not survive._

_The aquarium reopened on May 26, 2006. They are currently running an Adopt-an-Animal program to solicit funds for rebuilding._  
--from Wikipedia

* * *

It took them about two hours of shopping, but Dee and Ryo left with matching engagement rings. They had gone to a few small jewelry boutiques, but they had ended up leaving the quater's small Scottish/Irish store with claddagh rings. The men fell in love with the rings when the woman behind the counter of the shop told them the history about the rings: 

_"The claddagh ring's distinctive design features two hands clasping a heart surmounted by a crown," she said, turning the ring this way and that. "The elements of this symbol are often said to correspond to the qualities of friendship by the hands, loyalty by the crown and love by the heart that are said to combine in a good marriage._

_"The way that a claddagh ring is worn on the hand is usually intended to convey some indication of the wearer's romantic availability. It is generally true that if the ring is on the right hand with the heart facing towards the hand, indicates that the person wearing the ring is in a serious relationship--that his or her heart is closed. A ring worn on the right hand, with the heart outward, away from the hand, the person wearing the ring is not in any serious relationship, that the heart is open. A claddagh worn on the left hand with the heart toward the hand indicates marriage. The other orientation heart outward may indicate nothing, widowhood, or being engaged."_

Dee lifted Ryo's hand to give it a kiss, and Ryo smiled back at him. "So what do you want to do now?"

Dee pulled Ryo to him, wrapping his arm around the shorter man's waist. Ryo did the same, smiling up at him. "How about we go to the Aquarium? Marie said that it was a wonderful place to go"

* * *

The entranceway to the Aquarium of the Americas is a two-story atrium. Against the far wall is a waterfall, the water splashing over huge metal fish scales, the coins in the pool at the bottom glittering like tiny fish. 

Dee and Ryo stopped to get a map of the aquarium's layout before heading through the exhibits. The first exhibit that featured reef and shallow water fish, including an enormous tank that was arched over their heads. Ryo and Dee, along with their fellow patrons, stared in amazement over their heads as fish swam above them.

"Biks would love this," Ryo said as a sea turtle swam over their heads, and Dee nodded. They slowly moved through the first exhibit before going to the second, which was a tropical exhibit with huge fish as big as German Shepherds and piranhas

The next exhibit was a bunch of penguins--a fact that made both of them laugh--and they spent some time watching the penguins get fed and dive off the rocks into the chilly water below.

They made their way through the top floor of the aquarium, looking at the brightly colored fish and other animals.

The last exhibit on the top floor was a Louisiana exhibit, featuring (among many natural flora and fauna in the state) an albino alligator, which watched them all lazily as it sunned on its own dock.

They descended two flights of stairs after leaving the exhibit. At the bottom of the stairs was a large cylindrical fishtank and Dee smiled, watching the fish swim circles around the cylinder.

Ryo pushed Dee into a small semi-private corner behind the tank, chuckling at the surprised look on Dee's face. The two kissed for a few moments before being interrupted by the thundering of some sort of youth group. Ryo smiled and disappeared around the corner of the tank and Dee laughed, playing along and giving chase.

After a few circuts, he started getting frustrated. Damn, but Ryo could be a tease! So he stopped and waited for Ryo to make an appearance around the side of the tank so he could push him against the wall and kiss him again.

Five minutes passed, and Ryo didn't show. Dee felt panic begin to set in.

"Ryo?"

He rounded the tank a few more times, just to make sure the blonde wasn't torturing him.

"Ryo, this isn't funny anymore."

Ryo didn't answer him.

"Ryo!"

"God damn it. I'm too late."

The accent wasn't as heavy as he was used to hearing, and the words were prim and proper, but Dee recognized the voice right away. He spun on his heel to glare at Marie. "Where is my fiancee?" he demanded, grabbing her arms.

Marie noticed the ring and took Dee's hand, staring at it. "_Mon Dieu_, you had to get a symbolic one, too." She looked up at him. "Does Ryo have one like this?"

"Where is he?"

Marie sighed and took Dee's hand. "For now, he's safe. But we need to talk. Come with me"

* * *

Ten minutes later, a security guard opened a door for an elderly man in a wheelchair. A young man was pushing his chair, smiling at the guard as he set a hat on the older man's head. 

"Thank you sir," he said with a smile. "My grandpa likes the Aquarium, but it always puts him asleep," he said with a laugh.

The guard smiled politely, nodding before his eyes slid to the next patron, as if the man and his grandfather hadn't even been there. The young man pushed the wheelchair towards the river before boarding a boat docked illegally on the railing.

No one noticed the two men, the boat, or the claddagh ring on the hand of the unconscious man in the wheelchair.


	18. The Star

Chapter Seventeen: The Star  
Date Written: 1/10/06  
Rating: T  
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo  
Warnings Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent, or rape) and the issues that go with it.  
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero  
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7  
Notes: Finally, huh? Major props to totally4ryo for helping my muses along!

* * *

_A pirogue is a small, flat-hulled boat of a design associated particularly with West African fishermen and the Cajuns of the Louisiana marsh. These boats are not usually intended for over-night travel but are light and small enough to be easily taken onto land. The design also allows the pirogue to be easily turned over to drain any water that may get into the boat. The pirogue's motion comes from paddles that have one blade (as opposed to a kayak paddle, which has two). It can also be punted with a pole in shallow water._

--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia

* * *

The Mississippi River flows in front of the entrance to the Aquarium of the Americas. Marie was dragging Dee along the waterfront, her slender brown fingers tugging on his shirt sleeve. "_Merde_, where the hell is he?!" she said more to herself.

"What's going on?" Dee demanded yet again. "Where is Ryo?"

Marie opened her mouth to answer, but almost tripped over a wheelchair that seemed to appear out of nowhere. She put her hand on it before looking out in the water and noticing the boat that had just pulled away. "FUCK!" She kicked the handrail.

Dee followed her gaze to the boat that he previously hadn't noticed, the familiar cop senses going off telling him that something was definately wrong.

"Son of a dog!" Marie continued, kicking the chair. She frowned and kicked it again for good measure and Dee realized that people were starting to stare.

"Marie... is Ryo--"

"Come on," she cut him off, grabbing his shirt again and pulling him along. "Where's your car?"

"Over there," he replied, letting the younger woman drag him around. "Can we get to whereever we're going by car?"

"Partway," Marie replied, her footsteps light over the cobblestone as they crossed the street to the parking lot.

"Partway? And then what, we have to flap our arms and fly?"

Marie grinned ruefully and Dee felt the overwhelming urge to shake her. "We could, but it'd take wax and feathers, neither of which I have on me at the moment."

"What's going to happen to Ryo?" Dee demanded.

Marie grew solemn, and Dee realized she was schooling her features. "I don't know."

This time he grabbed her and did shake her. "What the hell do you mean, you don't know?! Who took my fiance, and what the hell is going to go on?!"

"Calm down," she soothed, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Get in the car, I'll explain as I drive."

Dee looked at her for a long moment, but fished his keys out of his pocket. "I hope you can drive."

Marie held her hand out and Dee tossed them to her, going around the other side to climb into the passenger seat. Marie was already in and buckled as the detective got in, and was digging around in the shoulderbag she was carrying. After a few moments she pulled out a woven bag on a cord and looped it around the rearview mirror. Dee raised a skeptical eyebrow. "A GPS?"

Marie snorted. "Please, don' insult me, Yankee." She threw the car into reverse suddenly before pealing out of the lot. Dee grabbed onto the armrests and muttered something under his breath about crazy women drivers.

"What is it then?" he asked, unable to keep the tremble from his voice.

"Part protection, part deflection," she replied cryptically and Dee decided to give up getting a straight answer out of the pretty mulatto. She cursed profusely in French as she drove, flipping drivers the bird as she nearly ran into them. Dee risked a glance over at the speedometer and wshed he hadn't.

When they sped by a parked patrol car, he finally spoke up. "If we get arrested, how is that going to help Ryo?"

Marie grinned and reached over to pat his knee comfortingly. "They won't see us, darlin', just calm that pretty Yankee head," she soothed.

"Excuse me for going into a slight panic here," Dee retorted, "but my fiance is missing and you told me you don't know what will happen to him, but I know it's not good and..." he trailed off and bent forward, putting his face in his hands. "Oh shit... Please God, just let us get to him in time."

"For fuck's sake, I'm trying," Marie replied. She swirved sharply around a car and flipped it off, cussing roundly in French.

Dee reached up and grabbed the handle overhead once again. "I'll settle for getting there in one piece too, you know."

Marie was quiet for a moment before asking, "You believe in God, right?"

"Yes. Of course I do."

"So you believe in unseen forces governing our lives, no?"

"You mean, like destiny?" he asked.

"More like magical forces," Marie clarified.

"That's more your area, but I'll believe aything to keep Ryo safe."

She sighed, thinking. There had to be another way... "Look, have you ever seen zombie movies?"

"I saw a ghost once," he offered helpfully. "She saved Ryo." The last part was a slip of the tongue and his eyes widened when he realized what he had said.

"What's Ryo's opinion of ghosts?" she asked softly.

Dee rolled his eyes. "He still doesn't believe us--me and our son, Bikky."

She sighed in relief. "That's good. What about stuff like movies?"

Dee shrugged. "I mean, we go to see them, but even I know they're just movies."

"Some people actually believe it. Anthropologists call it the 'voodoo effect' when someone dies from a curse.

Dee's head whipped around to stare at Marie. "People really can do that stuff?"

Marie's fingers tightened around the wheel, but relaxed as she looked over at him. "Yeah, we can. But the key to it is that the person has to believe." She looked back at the road and swore, almost sideswiping an eighteen wheeler.

Dee sighed in relief, looking out the window and muttering, "There's no way that Ryo believes in that shit."

"Joe can be extremely convincing," she said calmly. "Your partner will hold out, but not for long."

Dee looked back at Marie. "I mean, I was starting to get spooked with all this going on and Ryo was just as practical as ever, almost laughing at me. Well, he was laughing at me."

Marie was quiet for a moment, her face guarded as she thought. Finally, she asked, "Do you know who Marie Laveau was?"

Dee blinked at the sudden change in topic yet again, but nodded. "Her grave is in the cemetary over by the French Quarter, right?"

"Do you know who she was, though?"

"Some voodoo woman. They claim her magic is powerful, even in death." He shrugged. "We read about people going to her tomb and marking X's for good luck or something like that."

"That's because she had a daughter named Marie Laveau Paris, who looked so much like her mother that after Laveau died, people said she reincarnated herself."

"But if that was true, then what's the use of the marks if nobody's home?" Dee asked.

"It wasn't, and anyway people didn't start doing that until long long after."

"What does that have to do with Ryo?"

Marie sighed. "Just listen, okay? Anyway, when she died, her talents were passed to her daughter... and then later to her granddaughter--also named Marie, by the way. The third Marie used to tell fortunes in the French Quarter." She snorted. "By the twenties, so few people believed in voodoo... She was turning over damn tarot cards for tourists."

Dee's eyebrows raised, but he remained silent.

"Anyway, that was until she died after the Depression. Well, I take that back, she more like dissappeared; No taxes, no more appearances. You could probably find the old missing persons report if you knew the right place to look, being a cop and all."

"Something tells me that you may know more than the cops about this."

She grinned. "Do you know what a necromancer is?"

"Do you know how to stay on topic?" Dee shot back before going, "It's got to have something to do with death, since a necrophile has sex with dead people."

"It's a magician who specializes in death, specifically souls and their bodies... The man who kidnapped your lover is a necromancer."

Dee's mouth dropped open. "A-a... What's he want with my Ryo?"

"Joe--that's his name--lost his wife a long, long time ago... His longing for her turned into hate for the Laveau family, and towards the blacker side of hoodoo. He thought that Laveau killed his wife, and there's a spell involving a huge number of human sacrifices. If someone can pull it off, they can bring someone back from the other side. I read about it in _Grandmere_'s notes, but... I never thought someone would actually have the werewithal to pull it off."

"That your fiance is next on the list? Oh yes. You too. I'm sure you caught on about the recent spate of murders in New Orleans."

Dee groaned. "Can't this car go any faster?" Then he shot forward, held back by his seatbelt. "Wait! Once we get there... you have an idea what to do in case, well, in case he's doing any of that strange stuff to Ryo..."

"Honestly? Not a clue in hell. I figured we'd just wing it," Marie admitted.

"Wing it? Goddamn it!" Dee exploded, thumping the dashboard. "Does this guy need anything special? Like silver bullets or... Shit!"

"No, there are few things that can kill him, but silver bullets aren't the ticket. You and your Ryo are prizes to him, the figurative crown jewels." She smiled at him sadly. "A mixed couple as passionate as you two are? He's been gorging himself."

Dee gave her a confused look. "Huh?"

"Mixed blood. You and your Ryo are at most half-bloods."

Dee looked back out the window, putting his chin on his hand. "Yeah, we went through that before... I never knew... But.. has he been... I don't know, but I'm afraid to ask how he's been gorging himself..."

Marie patted his knee. "People who have mixed blood--especially the first generations, like me, white and black--have specifically strong auras. They're exhuded off of a person, but only those finely attuned to picking up them can notice." She grinned. "Emotions are so strong even normal people can pick them up, like when you glare at someone because you're angry. Even an amateaur practitioner can take that energy and manipulate it."

Dee shook his head. "Like I said, we knew that Ryo's half-Japanese, but... I don't know my parents."

Marie gave him a sympathetic glance. "Yes you do. You want your Mother right now."

Dee laughed weakly. "She's not my biological mother, but yes, she's my Mom. In ever other sense of the word." He paused before blurting, "How much longer?"

"Don't worry, it'll take time and he's not going to do anything until he's home." She glanced at him then back at the road. "Your birth mother was very pretty. Half blood, so you're two quarters and a half. He wants you badly too."

"How do you do that?" Dee demanded, gritting his teeth. "You're telling me things... well, that no one else has been able to figure out."

Marie grinned. "I'm the best. Got it from my Mama."

Dee ran a nervous hand through his dark hair. "I guess the half is white."

Marie shook her head. "Hispanic. Your mother was half Asian, a pretty lady with vivid green eyes."

Dee's head snapped around to stare at her. "What did you say?" Marie calmly, quietly repeated her statement, and Dee gave a weak laugh. "So my strange genetics came from her... because she managed to have green eyes too..." He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "I want a chance to tell this to Ryo... And all this time we both pretty much assumed I was white."

Marie shrugged. "Most people assume Ryo's white, but..." She chewed on her lower lip. "You were the first to realize that he was half in a long time."

Dee grinned a little at the memory, closing his eyes. "I just knew, it was something in his eyes... They were just gorgeous." He laughed a little. "He keeps teasing me that I look more Asian than he does." He opened his eyes and looked at her pleadingly. "Please. We need to get him back. We just got engaged... I want to be married."

Marie reached out to pat his bare arm. "Don't worry. I don't want to see another innocent die." Dee shivered a bit and she pulled her hand back. "Sorry."

"It's okay, some people get really cold hands when they're scared," Dee offered, rubbing his own hands together.

"I guess I'm always scared then," Marie said, chuckling at her own private joke.

Dee instictively reached out to Marie, grabbing one of her hands. She finched, but let him take a hand off the wheel. "You'll figure it out anyway," she muttered as Dee started rubbing the hand between his own.

"Wow, you really are cold," he said, his hands moving up to touch her wrist. His hand pauses and his eyes got impossibly wide.

She grinned. "I can't really feel hot or cold anymore. Or how food tastes or get tired..." She trailed off as Dee started looking for a pulse. "It's really amazing what life is when you're like this."

Dee stared at her hand, his brain still not comprehending what the facts were telling him. "You're... you're--"

"Yeah," she confirmed, sensing what he was going to say. "Go ahead, cut me. I won't bleed."

"I've touched people like this before, but they aren't moving anymore," he sputtered, feeling like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

She laughed softly. "Well, I'm not after your brains. I don't really need food anymore, anyway. I never really got that jump that Hollywood made. Hearts, other organs, maybe, but brains? You've got to break open the skull, way too much work."

Dee put his hands on his ears and closed his eyes, trying to void out all other thought. "Excuse me for a moment," he murmured, leaning over to take a deep breath as he finally admitted to himself that there actually was a dead person driving his rental car.

"Do you need to be sick?" Marie asked, rolling down the passenger side window.

"No," he said, sitting back and shaking his head. "Like I said, I've seen gory before, I've just... I've never had a murder vic offer to drive me somewhere before."

She laughed. "I've been dead longer than you've been alive," she said with a grin before doubling over the steering wheel. The car swerved into another lane and Dee leaned over to grab the wheel and setting the car back on its course. She was grabbing at the necklace around her neck.

"Marie, what's wrong?"

"Off," she choked out, tugging weakly. "I need it off..."

The chain was cutting into her skin, but it wasn't bleeding, which made Dee shiver. He touched the necklace and felt a sort of odd shock go through his fingers, making him fumble with the clasp. After a few fumbling seconds, he got it off her and into his hand. The metal was warm and heavy, and Dee kept getting shivers all down his arm. He had the impulse to throw it out the window. "What is this?"

"It's my leash," she explained, rolling the window down. "Throw it out for me?" she asked, her hand going up to rub her neck, and Dee tossed it out the window.

"God, that felt so weird..."

"Since Joe is my _master_," she growled, clenching the steering wheel before easing up on it. "He orders me to do this and that, and the necklace is what made me do it. I couldn't take it off. One of the things I was ordered not to do was to tell people that I was dead."

"So..." He shivered, remembering how the metal felt. "He can't make you now?"

"He can order me, and I'll be compelled to do it, but I won't have to anymore." She looked at his ring. "You can use that, you know. It's a connection between you and your beloved."

Dee looked down at the ring, rubbing it with his other hand. "How? We just got them, we were only engaged last night."

"It's simply a symbol of your connection. Close you eyes and think about your ring."

"Okay," he said with a sigh. "I'll try anything once." He closed his eyes and thought back to that morning when Ryo put the ring on his finger.

She smiled, watching him a little. "Now, picture Ryo's ring. Yours is calling out to its mate, just follow where it goes."

Dee did so, imagining a perfect copy of his ring wrapped completely in blackness. "Oh Ryo," he whispered, biting his lower lip.

"Do you see it?"

"Yes."

"Now let the image grow from just the ring to the whole of him."

Dee's eyebrows furrowed as he saw Ryo lying on a table of some sort, pale but alive and not bleeding.

"Is he awake?"

"No."

Dee heard Marie's sigh. "Good. He has to be awake for the ceremony. You can speak to him if you want. He can't hear you, but he'll feel the emotion. And since it's confined, Joe can't use it or sense it."

"Aw baby," he murmured, imaginging that he was leaning over him. "I love you." The phantom him leaned over to kiss Ryo's cheek. "Hang in there, I'm coming." Marie put a hand on his shoulder and shook him. The image flickered as Dee fought her off. "No," he said aloud. "I don't want to leave him."

"Dee." Marie's voice was calm, and he could feel her breath on his cheek. "He needs you with me right now, so we can save him."

Dee's green eyes snapped open and he swore, pushing at her a little in his anger. "Shit! He looked so defenseless..."

She smiled and touched the ring. "He's strong. That's what you love about him. And he's still with you."

"That's what scares me," Dee said, biting his lip. "Ryo's so strong."

"He'll be okay."

"That son of bitch -- I swear I'll find one of those few ways to put that bastard out for good..."

She grinned at him. "Me first."

"Oh, I'll gladly help you."

She laughed softly. "We'll have to go by pirogue. A motorboat would be too loud, he'll hear us."

"Excuse me?"

"Pirogue. Boat with a long stick."

"Okay," Dee said, nodding. "How far with one of those things we have to go?

Marie pointed across the lake to a small shack on the other bank.

"He's there?"

"They all are."

"All? More than two?"

She looked at him. "_Multiple Human Sacrifices_," she repeated.

"But all of them except for your Ryo are like me. Already sacrificed, but waiting."

"Y-you mean that Ryo's surrounded by..." He rubbed his face. "It would be a helluva time to say iI told you so/i..."

She parked the car and turned the ignition off before leaning over to Dee. "Listen. If I tell you to do something, you have to do it, you understand?"

Dee nodded, wondering if he could restrain himself.

Marie grabbed his shoulder. "NO MATTER WHAT. If I tell you to do it, you HAVE TO or you BOTH will die. Understand?"

"O-okay, okay," Dee sputtered before looking across the water to the shack where Ryo was. "That's never been my strongest point, but for Ryo I will."


End file.
